


Militat omnis amans

by LaMalefix



Series: Ex Machina [3]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Temporary Character Death, this time it's true!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:39:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16225952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMalefix/pseuds/LaMalefix
Summary: But the Angel seems to ignore him and still moves, gliding around him like smoke, even though he is now bodily. The grey tunic seems to reflect the silvery light that the place emanates. «The deal you offered me was impossible, inacceptable».And Magnus has the feeling he’s swallowing thickly. And finally he hears the words mount his throat, or whatever it is, and he manages to say it, finally. He can ask. «Why? I thought everything was settled... I’m satisfied with my current situation, everything is fine... let me go, wherever you chose...».Azrael’s eyes return to being black as night and his grin becomes deeper, more content. «Raziel asked for your judgement».[Previously] A mission goes horribly awry, and Jace remains mortally wounded; Magnus as usual saves the day but... at what price?And then, Alec has to deal with Magnus' extreme choice, and he couldn't feel any more hollow.Now,Magnus, or maybe his soul is waiting for a judgment, that will change his life (his death?) for good.The (not-so-long-awaited) third part of the Ex Machina series.[With the so-awaited Happy Ending!]





	1. The sins of the fathers shall not fall on their children

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again!  
> This is the third part of the Ex Machina series!  
> I think it will be a three chapter story, because I'm damn verbose and I have a lot, a loooot of things to say about this. As I wrote in the second part *grins*  
> This story will have Magnus as the main POV, but maybe it will have Alternate POV...  
> I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it...  
> See you at the end of the chapter!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

> ###  _…Unt hic etiam sua praemia laudi;_  
>  sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt.  
>  Solve metus; feret haec aliquam tibi fama salutem...  
>    
>    
>  Aeneid, 1.461 ff ─ Virgil
> 
> Here, too, the praiseworthy has its rewards;  
>  there are tears for things and mortal things touch the mind.  
>  Release your fear; this fame will bring you some safety.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a persistent sound.

A continuous noise that seems to drum in his ears.

But can he talk about ears? Since, in short, he shouldn’t even have them, his ears.

And he shouldn’t even have these strange perceptions.

And yet here it is that continuous ring, like a choked hiss, that seems to want to bring him back to reality.

And then Magnus opens his eyes, or at least he has the hunch of opening them and he’s still enveloped in that dark and thick fog.

And around him, besides that black smoke, there is nothing. Nothing.

There is only that croaked sound and the cold black breath which compose that dense and imperceptible slime.

Probably, but it can’t be quite sure, this is what it’s like to die. He imagined that he’d see nothing, that he’d feel anything, and simply infested, appearing from time to time, Catarina’s home. Instead it’s as if he was made of ether, as if he was impalpable. Perhaps it’s only this transition from life to non-life that makes him believe he is incorporeal. Probably it will take another few minutes and the darkness of death will welcome him without firing a shot And so he merely waits for the moment, with half-closed eyes.

 

The dense fog suddenly thins out.

And Magnus has the feeling of being dazzled by an incredible light.

There is something that is emanating light, an absurd light, and forces the Warlock to close his eyes shout. In the absence of better words, he would call it celestial. It is as if... as if he were in front of the proverbial Diamond Arch, what some Arcane Mystics have described as composed of an innumerable quantity of diamonds, which vibrate this brilliant and indescribable light with mortal, fallacious words.

And Magnus, when he finally forces himself, to open his eyes, he sees it. He sees what he has in front of him and he’s completely certain that this is an hallucination. Evidently, he hit his head, while falling, some moments before...

Maybe he still has to die completely and so... yes, certainly what he has before him, before his very eyes, doesn’t exist.

Because that, that’s a heavenly vision. A thing that he, being the son of a Prince of Hell, shouldn’t even be able to imagine.

That is the access, the door to what anyone would call High Heavens, a sort of iridescent arch that shines with a very clear, immaculate and impalpable light. Undoubtedly angelic.

That door seems to have been carved of adamas, and shines like witchlight.

Absurd.

There must be an error somewhere. There is certainly an error somewhere, if this is the truth, because he, he shouldn’t be there. He probably should be at the gates of Pandemonium, or more simply float in Limbo without having any way out.

In short, High Heavens was certainly not scheduled.

Oh yes, of course he has simply gone mad and those last beats of his heart are causing him hallucinations. And that grim and  incessant sound in his ears makes him shiver. Damn. He’s certainly delirious, or this is simply the sound of death.

And it’s strange, it’s like being underwater with open eyes and everything is so bright, overexposed and iridescent, the sounds are muffled except for that unceasing ring that whistles in the auricle. And that black fog that enveloped him until a moment ago, is nothing but a mirage now.

And for a split second, Magnus has the feeling that the world, or whatever it is, turns around, that his head, if he can still call it that, spin. Because there is something near him, a creature that is perhaps Azrael. The black hood that covered its forms is now nothing but a white robe tied loosely at his waist. He looks like a man, nothing more.

And perhaps his face is strangely familiar, somehow the curve of his nose, the shape of his face, the cut of his eyes.

In some ways he resembles him. In some ways Azrael resembles his father. He looks like Asmodeus.

And this terrifies him because maybe, maybe he made a deal with the wrong creature.

But Azrael looks at him, perhaps only now he notices Magnus’ forms ─ whatever they are ─ in all that light, and looks at him with those eyes dark like the night.

«Magnus Bane,» he says, and this time the voice doesn’t sound like a distant echo, it’s not terrifying, frightening. Of course, it is as cold as before, but not so sacral. «Don’t bother your little brain about my semblances...» adds the Angel. «I may look like your father because he and I were very similar a long long time ago. But, you don’t have to worry about my appearance».

And Magnus has the feeling that some sort of lump in his throat has melted in the end.

«You should bother a bit more about yours...» he replies, moving a finger to point up and down where he is, and the light grin that curls his lips seems rather amused.

Magnus feels a slight nauseous, as he follows the Angel of Death’s advice and looks at himself. Looks at himself. And he feels his mouth open wide as he finally looks down and notices his hands and his feet are almost translucent, invisible. And of a strange shade of straw yellow that almost gives him a bit of terror. And he can’t stop that little wave of disgust: it’s all so very tacky here, even his iridescence, his impalpability. Perhaps he hoped it to be a bit more vicious, like red or some hue of purple. Who knows. Actually, he didn’t even bother with whatever it is… maybe this is his─

«That’s your soul. This is the appearance it has. And that yellowish something-something is the color your soul has.» the Angel murmurs, his voice has an ancient and sacred flavor again, but now his tone seems more amused than cold.

Well, yes, that was what he was guessing. He thinks, and try to say it aloud. Just to find more answers.

«There’s no need to talk, Bane. Don’t even try it, in this current form of yours, you won’t be able to... But I’m more than capable to intercept what you think, we can entertain a conversation even like that...» replies Azrael, that grin still on his lips.

And Magnus stays still, and stares the Angel. Perhaps all that gold all that light a bit annoys him, and hurts what he could call his eyes, or maybe the eyes of his soul. It’s really all too kitsch for his tastes. Even now. Now that his eyes, like, have become accustomed to all that ethereal light, now he realizes that the Arch that he has decided to call Diamond Arch has an extremely rough cut in his being composed of something very similar to adamas, and is riddled with marked signs of gold that look like runes. Tawdry, definitely tawdry. And at the top of the archway there is something like a nest created by many plaited feathers lacquered platinum. _Urgh_.

«Yes, those who have decided for the architecture of the Celestial Gates have exaggerated... I don’t even want to talk about what is beyond the walls... Thank God I have another realm to attend…» comments Azrael in the near distance.

Magnus has read a lot in his life, a whole lot of books, manuscripts and whatever, and the Mystics who have described what effectively he is finding himself before, defined everything as shrouded in an aura of mystery. They couldn’t really even imagine what it was like to see these magnificent structures. And even he, in fact, in all his long life, has never even managed to think about it: how could he cross the bridges of light, after all, how could he, a mere mortal, the son of a Prince of Hell, ever hope to understand such magnificence?

«You call it magnificence, I call it baroque...» the angel mumbles again. «When the Choirs approved this embellishment, I was committed to reclaiming souls in this or that war... I would have voted against it».

Magnus snorts a grim sneer. «It does not surprise me.» he finds himself commenting. And he finally found the voice, and now he wants to ask a lot of things, because he has all these phantom perceptions, that damn sound that keeps whistling in his ears, these celestial visions. And why the hell he is there? He simply had to die and instead his soul is there in front of the something that has all the makings of being the City of Angels, the Silver Citadel. _Damn_.

Azrael approaches a little, his irises and his pupils are now very white, ghostly. «Wow, Raziel was right in the end. I never would have said it...» he comments softly. And this causes Magnus’ blood to freeze. «My scythe has done its job, but you can’t go any further for now. And I didn’t expect you would be able to find the voice here... because let’s say, your body is really really far away from here...» he adds moving back and letting the handle of the scythe leap from one hand to the other. «But it would seem that your soul, though it’s here, is bound to your body, and as long as your body survives, and your lungs swell with air and your heart beats and makes throb the blood in your veins... you will be here, but not really here».

And what does it mean? Magnus finds himself again without words, and wants to scream. Damn he is dead. He is fucking dead. But his body is not yet, and yet this should give him a little hope, but...

Azrael opens his eyelids and tightens his grip on the scythe. «Let’s put it in this way, I don’t like to talk with metaphors… seeing the colour of your soul, it’d still take you a very short time to understand... let’s say it bluntly, mh?» mumbles, the soft smirk on his lips.

And Magnus nods, trying in some way to pretend confidence from his soul. And a part of him thanks the Angel of Death because at least he wants to be clear.

«This is where you will be judged for your life. Once you have passed the High Gates, you will be taken over by an Angel who will escort you to the Court.» Azrael murmurs. «You will be judged for your life, here, for your actions. Here your soul will be weighed. And maybe you’ll find a better job than meddle in my work».

And Magnus has the feeling he’s swallowing thickly. And finally he hears the words mount his throat, or whatever it is, and he manages to say it, finally. He can ask. «Why? I thought everything was settled... I’m satisfied with my current situation, everything is fine... let me go, wherever you chose...».

Azrael’s eyes return to being black as night and his grin becomes deeper, more content. «Raziel asked for your judgment».

 _Raziel?_ Magnus repeats in his head, he is more than convinced that it’s all in his mind. That is hallucinating now: falling, he hit his head and now he’s just waiting to die on his balcony. _Damn_. Maybe not a millisecond has passed since his fall, and he’s still waiting to die.

But the Angel seems to ignore him and still moves, gliding around him like smoke, even though he is now bodily. The grey tunic seems to reflect the silvery light that the place emanates. «The deal you offered me was impossible, inacceptable».

Inacceptable? Magnus repeats in his mind. Damn, what the hell is happening.

Azrael nods. « _Inacceptable_ , that’s why Raziel asked to examine your case. We have read your soul, your past and your future and this has led him to ask for a judgment, a kind of trial in the presence of all the Angelic Choirs. A real bummer to which I won’t have to attend, fortunately... I have done my job, we are even.» he adds, sighing. And he lets the scythe slip off his hands, and makes it disappears in a cloud of black smoke. «But actually, you offered a payment that wasn’t worthy a Nephilim’s life... And Raziel rightly pointed it out to the other...».

« _Even in death_...» Magnus comments, muttering bitterly to himself.

The Angel looks rather confused, but then his black eyes flicker and a half-laugh runs out. «You can think whatever you want, but don’t come to the conclusions you set before deeply analysing my words. You’re smart, I thought you could get the point more easily. Raziel knows perfectly the value of his warriors, as well as he knows how much weight your life has...».

And in Magnus’ mind for a moment everything takes on disturbing connotations: without thinking about what happened yesterday, because that was his entirely arbitrary choice, for most of his life he saved the sacred buttocks of generations of Nephilims, and yet his life doesn’t weigh like theirs.

«Every life has a different weight, in its uniqueness… as the one who lives it is unique,» murmurs the Angel of Death. «That’s not what you think, mh? We Angels can be much more mysterious than that, I was quite explicit the other time too... and you should just listen and think carefully about my words. You resemble us enough, I thought you had understood the first time I told you, but...» he snorts with that tone, still too amused for Magnus’ tastes. «If your soul hadn’t been worth a Nephilim’s one, why should I have taken it? I’ll explain it to you so that you’ll understand, once and for all.» he murmurs again, his tone so very serious now.

And maybe Magnus can’t take it anymore to listen to all this nonsense, he’s dead and that’s it. That’s fine with him. And there is that sound that hisses loudly in his ears, which seems even louder, even more prominent that confuses him even more.

But Azrael keeps talking, an eyebrow raised and with that expression looks even more like Asmodeus, and Magnus shudders, more or less, since he has no skin...

«Your life has a specific weight. As I said, every life has a weight different from the other, based on experiences, based on trails... and so every single life takes on a different value. Yours has been an extremely long life, and is therefore full of more or less decent events... I don’t judge, Death doesn’t judge... it isn’t my task. But if I have to take a life, it must have certain features... Nephilims are warriors, but you too are, from other points of view.» the Angel murmurs. «There’s more to be said, all you need to know is that you’ve had a lot of time, and you’ve given me a lot of time. Much more than you have experienced it. You could have done a lot more with your life, Bane» he adds and then remains silent for a moment, maybe to make him metabolize all this whole mess.

Magnus gasps, but this helps to recover a minimum of composure. «What does that even mean?!».

But before Azrael can open his mouth and continue, a sound like the tolling of a bell stops him.

«It’s time».

And this is another voice, a voice coming from somewhere near, and Magnus turns around. And a ray of light invades his field of vision, a clearly overexposed gold colour comes in arrogance into what he can define as his eyes. There is another Angel there, and he is surrounded by a golden aura.

And takes his breath away. And he leaves him amazed. And only a tiny part of him notices how flashy and dramatic his entry is.

«Oh, your passage has arrived.» the Angel of Death murmurs, with some satisfaction. «I did my job, and as usual I couldn’t be clearer than that. Bane, if we meet again... try to make a more careful choice... you’re a great pain in the ass, so... try not to snoop in my work _again_ …»said this Azrael returns to be wrapped in that black fog, in that foam thick and dark that enveloped him a little while ago.

And Magnus snorts, as if he had another chance... and anyway he didn’t understand, he didn’t really understand where the Angel of Death was getting at, but now, now he has another Angel in front of him, and in his sanctity is much more chilling than Azrael’s.

And Magnus is not ready, he is not at all ready for what will happen soon, for his judgment. And for a moment everything gets confused and becomes too bright. And his eyes are lost again. And the breath, and that’s kind of absurd, suddenly becomes short. As if he had lungs, as if he weren’t practically some kined of loopy little ghost. As if this were not an unsettling near-death experience.

«Come, Magnus.» says the other Angel, lifting him from his confusion and waving at him, without moving from where he is, in front of the Diamond Arch.

And Magnus doesn’t know how, but he is already moving towards that place. His soul seems to vibrate, it seems to tremble still a bit shaken by something unspeakable.

«Azrael has said something about your soul... and I have to say, that he is absolutely right.» the Angel muttered, reaching him halfway. «Are you ready for your judgment?».

Although the tone of this Angel is diametrically opposed to Azrael’s, almost mellifluous and musical, Magnus is definitely intimidated. It may also be because all that golden aura masks even more his features, his appearance. Or maybe he’s just terrified by the fact that he’s waiting for a judgment.

A judgment that he didn’t even want.

 

And Magnus certainly didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect to walk the last bridge, to cross the Diamond Arch, the High Gates, and to enter the wall cloister that protects the Eternal Citadel of the Angels.

The sound, that dark sound continues to whistle in his ears even when in front of him spreads what the Mystics called the Ether Citadel, like a small world unto itself, that enormous sprawling complex of very high and shimmering spiers and wide openings and huge sweeping buttresses. All of its architecture pulsates with light, an ethereal light that creates a scenario of radiant luminescence. But the sound here, continues and is stronger and looks like a cry now. It’s clearer.

And Magnus would like to open his mouth and ask about it. But perhaps it’s only the weeping of the souls that have passed through, and then have been sorted in other places, because it’s clear that no one else is admitted here besides the Angels, because this, this celestial city is the cradle of all the Angels, the birthplace of the Angelic Choirs. And of course, that sound is not. Is just inexistent. It can’t be. He’s just going crazy. He’s just dying. That’s all.

And the light is very strong, at a certain point, so that it seems to annihilate everything around it. And the sound is even louder and looks like a sob. A continuous wail.

After another long moment of silence, the Angel draws his attention, he is beginning to take shape. «Do you hear it?» he asks and judging by his tone he seems rather surprised.

The Warlock can’t even answer.

«Do you feel it?» the Angel repeats and the light that surrounds him seems to disappear completely. It has the shapes of a warrior, with a rather important helmet, from which emerge hair that looks like very thin gold and silver threads, has a sword tied at the waist. Golden angelic symbols move on his alabaster skin, and on his pair of large golden wings each feather contains a single golden staring eye, that pierce through Magnus very soul. «I know you’ve already managed to talk, you have to find a way to keep doing it, don’t be in awe just because you’re here and because a judgment awaits you, a judgment that has already taken clear connotations, by the way»

Magnus moves his lips, or what they are, can hear the voice coming out of his mouth. «What do you mean?».

And around Magnus everything becomes clearer: they are in some sort of forum, an arena. And there are flashes of light all around. Dozens of those who he’s certain are Angels.

«We have already examined your case... and we already have half a pending decision.» He replies. «Now tell me, do you really hear it?».

And Magnus nods. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever find the words now. Now that he knows he won’t have a trial, a trial he didn’t even want, and that he is probably delirious, and he is in the presence of this quantity of creatures who judge him for his blood before for his actions. The important thing is that, if all this it should be real, things don’t change for Alec. For his Alexander. And in a dizzy dread, he realizes that this is the first time he has thought of him since he is there. And he feels a tightening in the heart, wherever it is. Because now he remembers it: now his blue eyes are in front of him. Alec saw it, Alec saw him die. God. _God._

«Do you want to know what this sound is? The sound you hear?» he babbles. «Or don’t you care? Judging from what we’ve seen in your past you’re a rather curious type, so I guess you empirically would like to know more... mh?».

Even this Angel has lost all his sacredness with that amused tone. And Magnus is almost completely convinced of being crazy: that sound, yeah, he wants to know what it is, but maybe he’s just crazy. But yes, of course he wants to know. Because all this is taking some oddly real and disturbing shapes.

«I’m really astonished, you know? I didn’t think you could hear it, actually... it’s something that is difficult for us, sometimes...» the Angel says and darts his look on Magnus, the eyes on his feathers seem to fathom his soul. «Long story short... It’s your Alexander».

«What?» Magnus gasps, a raw breath scrapes his throat. «What?» He repeats with a hiss. _Alexander?_

«He’s crying. And I don’t know how strong you hear it, I hear those Nephilim children pretty well when they wail but... how can I say that?».

«This sound? This sound is him…» he asks.

«His crying, yes.» the Angel replies, and from the tone this time seems particularly involved, somehow sorry.

«He’s crying? Alexander is─» Magnus stutters. «Why do I feel it?».

«Because I believe that the practices of your judgment are moving really fast...» he nods and turns his eyes to the blanchers. «It could be called bureaucracy, I think it’s one of the first times that something so epochal happens here... A Downworlder, here…».

And this statement seems to gather many consents from the audience.

But Magnus has decided to ignore how much those words hurt him, and tries to shake off all that pain, that continuous noise. Alexander who cries, who cries for him. «I’m fine with my situation. Send me wherever you want, I don’t care... as long as his life is saved. His and Jace’s.» he mumbles, and maybe his voice trembles a bit.

«His life will not end. It that’s what you’re worrying about…» says the Angel. «Not tonight, nor in the immediate future. This is what we can tell you for now. This is not my job, nor yours...» he adds, bowing his head towards him, and coming a bit closer, and he’s somehow ghastly and ominous, even if he’s something really really celestial, angelic. «But we can tell you that your sacrifice has impressed us, yes».

And a kind of murmur, another clamour of assent, echoes in the forum, and almost covers Alexander’s cry.

«You impressed us and...» he interrupts himself and seems to stare at him from under his helmet visor. «Trust me, I can understand why you did it. And that’s why I asked for a judgment for you».

« _Raziel_?» he murmurs slowly, not believing his own words.

But the Angel seems to ignore it. «Not only did you help your Alexander, his family, but also hundreds of other Nephilims in their cause. In my cause.» he adds and seems to stop and watch him again.

And Magnus could swear that that Angel’s eyes are examining him intimately, and he could also say that they are surely golden eyes, without iris or vitreous humour. «Raziel?» he asks softly.

«We meet again, Magnus... in other circumstances, I would say...» he nods.

«I remember you being taller... more or less seventeen or eighteen meters...» the Warlock manages to say, and this causes a certain general laughter. And maybe he shouldn’t have said it aloud, or shouldn’t even think about it, but he doesn’t have filters when he’s agitated. And now he could really define himself agitated, because maybe this is the truth and he’s actually facing Raziel, in person.

«Trade secrets.» the Angel scoffs, kind of amused, and the eyes on his wings shimmer brightly. «It’s all to be catalogued in Angelic Things».

And Magnus just can’t stop his mouth. «You were also dramatically angry the other time we met... But I do not think it was just to look more impressive, isn’t it? Like Azrael before, he went around in a cloud of black thick sinister smoke?» he askes quietly.

«Angelic Things, trade secrets, I repeat.» Raziel reiterates, but seems to be playing the game. « _Anyhow_... now I’ll explain how this will go, what will happen... We might weigh your soul, even if this thing we could easily avoid it because of its colour... and we will move forward the judgment».

And Magnus moves fast, and raises his hand as if trying to stop him, or perhaps trying to ask for the floor. «It’s okay with me,» he says. «My situation is fine with me, my death. Don’t waste your precious time with me. It’s better that my body stops existing quickly, otherwise... my magic will continue to exist with my body... being linked to my immortality. When my body dies, every bit of my magic will vanish and... there will remain only some imperishable spells and...» he hastens to say. «I need to die quickly, because my father might try to get hold of what’s left of me and my magic…» he interrupts again. «My end, my end is fine with me. I’m good. Wherever you send my soul... I don’t care. I had a long life and... I loved a lot, I’ve been loved so much lately that... if Alexander is alive, if his life is saved, that’s good enough for me. It’s fine».

There is some noise from the blanchers, someone seems to agree with his words, someone else may have said something in a language that Magnus does not know, but he seems to hear the classic tone of those who cringe. Something seems to attract their attention.

«I know my soul is not as good as your children’s, Raziel. I have demonic blood and I shouldn’t even be in your presence.» he adds. «Azrael also said it... my soul weighs differently...».

Raziel observes him in silence, his golden eyes that seem to fathom his soul. «Death speaks in mysterious ways... it speaks all the languages of the world, but in fact its language is shrouded in mystery.» he murmurs.

 _And not that everything is clearer now_. A voice rumbles in Magnus head.

«He didn’t say what you think. Being Azrael the clearest of us, and doesn’t speak in metaphors because it’s the most direct among us... you just have to learn to listen.» adds the Angel, drawing with his walk, a circle around Magnus. «Can you tell me what he said?».

«He said that my life has a specific weight. And that I gave him time, a lot of time...» he murmurs. And maybe Azrael said more things.

«You gave him too much time.» Raziel nods. «Your life... is much heavier than the life of a mere mortal, angelic blood or not... You’ve lived long, long life, and you’d still have a lot of time ahead of you... far more than you have left behind» adds and the tone is almost kind, and it seems like the ancient and imperishable whisper of time. «Immortality is a curse, a sentence, which means many different things: you have lived, experienced hundreds of things, memories, pains, happiness... lives lived by you and by whom you saw passing by, by whom you protected... a lot of time means as many possibilities».

And Magnus would like to ask for something, but he’s at loss of words.

«You’ve had a lot of time, and you’ve offered your future, your life to save the Nephilims you care about ... for your Alexander, for his parabatai... for their family...» Raziel murmurs again, but his voice is stentorian, serious and sacral. «You could have done a lot more with your life, Magnus».

And these are the exactly Azrael’s words and Magnus gasps again. He gasps, as if he were once underwater.

«Your payment is too high, this is what Azrael meant.» the Angel explains briefly. «Compared to a short life like a mortal one, a Nephilim’s, one of my children... offering your time, your past and future life, you gave too much...».

And no, Magnus doesn’t understand, and perhaps he doesn’t understand because it takes a lot to metabolize this news. In the end, his life is worth something in the eyes of creatures who wanted him dead? No, surely, he misunderstood.

«It isn’t your life that has a low value compared to that of Nephilim, it’s quite the opposite.» the Angel sighs.

And the Warlock widens his eyes, or at least that’s the feeling he has. No, no, it must be an hallucination because Raziel would never say anything like that. Not the Raziel he summoned that fateful day with Sherwin, no. Absolutely.

«Your soul, is extraordinary…» continues Raziel, who evidently has decided to ignore Magnus’ thoughts, or may not be able to read them. «Your soul is more like ours than we expected. While you were talking, you couldn’t have noticed it since it’s your soul, but... it shined brightly like gold, in _our_ golden hue. That’s the colour of whomever is pious, whomever is rightful» he murmurs, and his voice is like a thunder, extremely deep and sacral. «You are a righteous man. You had... you had a long life, Magnus. A long life devoted to helping others. You have raised generations of Downworlders, and you have protected and loved them, as well as you have helped those who didn’t treat you as they should. The Nephilim were cruel, they were blind, abject, despicable, vile. And yet... you have continued to work for them you have continued to... you have continued to help them. Even if they have not always treated you well. You have made their cause simpler, my cause easier...».

And Magnus finally finds the words, and feels that uncomfortable feeling of the tongue crushed on the palate in a sign of dissent. «It doesn’t matter, right? I have been loved immeasurably, especially in the last part of my life. It’s a happy ending anyway. And I’m happy to have been useful, and anyway my services have received a generous compensation...» he replies softly, and maybe he would like to say something else, he would like to add something else. Because in the end it isn’t the blood that decides what a person should do, but it’s the choices of the heart and the brain that pave the way to the future.

«A compensation you have always decided, and which we know to be relatively generous. Let’s be honest, magic costs energy, and certainly a bag of rubies doesn’t offset the energy used, the service offered. And it’s true, it is the heart and the brain, and not the blood, angelic or not, to dictate what you are.» Raziel nods, and also from the blanchers there seems to be a clamour of assent, so strong that almost covers the sound that echoes in his ears, _Alexander_. «The sins of the fathers shall not fall on their children. You are the son of Asmodeus, but you are the farthest from him. Like many who have boasted of being my children, have made themselves ignoble with their horrible crimes».

And Magnus has the clear and piercing sensation of his heart tightened in a grip, while the sound that echoes in his ears becomes even louder, even more excruciating. And maybe, if he had tear ducts his soul, he would be crying too. And perhaps he’s also moved by Raziel’s admission. Nephilims haven’t always done good things, far from it.

And the Angel seems to grin slowly, while the toll of that distant bell seems to warn him of something. «We would say that we are ready for a final decision, Magnus. No weighing of soul for you».

 

 

 

Silence.

An indescribable, almost sacred, celestial, impossible silence is burning him, it’s burning like that dazzling light emanating from the court of the Angelic Choirs.

Raziel is still in front of him, observing him, maybe judging him with the eyes on his feathers, he still has the helmet on his head, and Magnus couldn’t define how he is looking at him with his other eyes, because the visor covers his face. And this doesn’t even matter, does it? He shouldn’t even be here, so…

And even the other Angels, too, still seem to be their own sources of light, like stars glimmering in the blanchers. He couldn’t even quantify them, they could be hundreds, or they could be dozens or thousands. Not that it matters. It doesn’t matter absolutely.

And Magnus waits, does not even know what, seen and considered that all this makes no sense. And it is clearly a weird pre-death experience. The only thing he feels is that Alec continues to suffer, that noise hasn’t stopped hissing in his ears. And he feels a terrible, terrible pain in his heart, because he wants to be there, he wants to be back there in the apartment and reassure him. And it hurts, his heart hurts so much. As if he had, now, a heart.

And then he waits a little longer, a splatterdash that suddenly covers Alec’s cry.

And then again that bell that he heard, he does not even remember when, tolls.

«Well,» says Raziel, with an imposing thunderous tone that stops the clamour and slowly from the blanchers the lights disappear one after the other. «The Angelic Choirs Court has decided, Magnus».

«You were quick.» he comments, now, and he doesn’t know how his voice sounds maybe amused, or maybe he’s just agitated. But one thing is sure he wants all this to end, he just wants to stop hearing Alec crying, he just wants to see him one last time, even for just a second, before moving on. Just that, and move on.

«Well, the deal you offered Azrael is a more than sufficient proof of the will that moves you... so we can proceed...» whispers the Angel without moving. His body is radiant with this incredible sacral halo that surrounds him entirely.

«Proceed?» Magnus asks. «Can I go? I can move on? I would really... really move on, my heart is at peace. I’m just sorry to hear him crying.» he murmurs.

Raziel nods his head. «He’s desperate, yes... and loves you so… so much. Such a strong bond…» he sighs and those eyes on his wings seem to plumb every little inch of his soul.

And Magnus’ heart breaks a little bit more, if that’s even possible.

«But now… we have to talk about something important, because it will take you a while to get yourself out of this situation, but... we need to move forward, we need this to finish as soon as possible, Magnus.» the Angel adds. «There’s a threat, that hovers in the immediate vicinity. And _we_ , Magnus, _we_ are soldiers. _We_ Angels are soldiers. A bit like anyone who loves. Anyone who loves is a soldier».

«This is Ovidious,» Magnus mutters, but he doesn’t really understand.

«An enlightened one.» Raziel replies with a satisfied tone, moving towards him. «The Court accepted my requests. You will go back, and fight your battles, but you will lose your strongest and most important bond you have, we must still claim something, the rest of us. And together with this we will take away a piece of your Alexander».

And for a long, long moment Magnus could swear that everything stopped. Everything. Even his thoughts are frozen there in that nowhere, far from his body and his soul. Is this real? If this is real, if this is really happening, Alexander will lose something, and Magnus too. They will lose each other. No. No. No. It can’t be.

«What do you mean?» Magnus asks, frozen in place. His voice trembles. It can’t mean this, it can’t mean this, right? «I go back, You make me go back to life and I lose what I died for? I don’t want to go back, to revive or whatever, that’s okay, I’m okay with it. If Alexander has to die _I─_ ».

And Alec’s laments seem to cease suddenly. The sound, that continuous, persistent noise that he heard before, seems to vanish for a moment. And this attracts his attention. And that terrifies him. What the hell happened?

«He has noticed that your heart is beating. That your body is still alive...» Raziel answers his silent question, giving more importance to his reaction than to his words. So he always listened to his thoughts. _Oh, heck_.

And now there is some other sound that echoes in his ears. Something soft, something that seems ethereal and celestial and happy.

«Hope. This is hope. Frail and delicate hope…» the Angel says. «But soon enough somebody will convince him that it is Alec who keeps you alive, with his energy, with his strength... let’s say that it’s more than anything else the choice you made... the love you feel for him and for your people is what took you here. But his love too, made the difference in our decision… but your choices were pivotal to make me request this judgment».

And Magnus shakes a bit. «No, I don’t understand» he groans, head down looking at his translucent golden feet.

«You will understand. And anyway, I certainly didn’t say that Alec will die and that you will lose him. I said that you will lose your most important bond, and that Alexander Gideon Lightwood will lose something too.» replies the Angel, the stern thunderous tone. «You already know the answer, it’s already deep inside your heart: my work is another, like that of many other Angels, it is to watch over those who perpetrate our cause, it’s not my job to reclaiming the souls of the dead. That’s not what I said. But, of course, the time you offered Azrael covers many payments... as much as it covers many lives,» he adds once again.

And Magnus shakes his head, or at least he feels like shaking his head. No, he doesn’t understand. What does that mean?

«You’ll understand that.» Raziel repeats. «What I mean, you’ll understand it when you’ll come back home. I can’t be clear, you have to find out the answer for yourself. Now come, we have to finish our practices. The usual bureaucracy...» he murmurs, making a odd movement with his hand.

Magnus swallows hard twice, and just gasps. « _Bureaucracy_ ».

«Well, yes, it’s weird but... to do what we’re going to do, we need to be careful about every single postillion, it’s a kind of contract that you’re going to sign here... a contract with us. And being officially the first time that this happens... we have to follow a special procedure.» explains Raziel briefly. «Let me impose a rune on you».

And Magnus gasps again. «I am a Warlock, I have Demon blood».

«That I know… and that’s why we need to do this whole mess here…» the angel nods, as if this thing doesn’t weigh at all. «But your soul, I told you, is similar to ours, more than your father’s soul was originally. It’s not the blood that decides. You decide, your heart and brain. Your choices are not those of your father, and being here is more than a proof» the Angel adds quietly, with a touch of contentment in his voice and finally takes off his helmet and lets it disappear in a golden glimmer. The white alabaster skin, the gold and silver hair, those large golden wings make his golden eyes stand out even more. «Let me impose a rune on your soul, the most powerful I have. And then you’ll go back. It will take a while, a few days or so for you to wake up, because in the end the journey that will take back your soul will be quite long and tortuous, but... you will go back to him, and you will live again, a somewhat new life».

«I... I don’t want this. I don’t want a new life...» he begins to say and the Angel is now near him. _I want Alexander, another day, no more. I want Alexander only one last time to make all these horrendous memories disappear, to make all this pain disappear. To make him stop crying, to suffer._ But he can’t say it aloud.

Raziel seems to ignore his words and even his thoughts, while he extracts what looks like an archetype of a stele from some cranny of his shining armour. He’s terribly close, as he passes by. «Who loves is a warrior, remember it. Beyond all circumstances, any adversity. Who loves is a warrior. You will find the strength, you will find the road, with or without ties, with or without bonds. Perorate your cause, Magnus Bane, my cause and the cause of my children. And protect them. A great danger is coming.» the Angel confides to him softly, in a low voice, like a whisper.

And what would this mean? Does that mean he will come back to his old life? And that probably will lose Alec in doing so, or maybe... maybe something will change radically maybe... maybe…

And then there’s that danger, that great danger that’s coming...

Too much information in such a small time.

And Magnus would like to say something else, now that he has so much information, would like to know even more, he would like to have some explanations but... but something lancinating burns his soul, there where his neck would be, right under the back of his head. An impossible pain radiates everywhere and the air, as if he were breathing, rasps in his lungs, in his throat. And the heart, his heart wherever it is, makes a dull sound, almost covering the sound of Alec crying. Because Alec started crying again, now. That chirpy soft sound has vanished.

«Hold on for a second, because now comes the part that will hurt, really.» Raziel murmurs, before drawing his sword. The sound, of the blade coming out of the hilt, makes Magnus shiver. «You sacrificed your life for him and his loved ones, it would be impossible to tear out that bond.» he whispers softly, as if it were a secret. «Go back to your life. And remember there is a great danger coming... now relax, so it will hurt less».

And Magnus doesn’t know if he’s really relaxed. He doesn’t know if you can relax when someone tell you that something will hurt less, because it will still hurt. It’s not even completely certain that it is there, so...

But the fact is that suddenly the blade of Raziel’s sword, all golden and with the iridescent runes that mark the angelic metal, well, the sword crosses his soul, coming out comically from the area that Magnus would call his abdomen.

And, God, God, if it hurts.

He doesn’t even know how to describe it, how much it burns, how much the air breaks in his lungs once more, and a stifled cry rasps his throat. And the heart still jerks in his chest and he seems to gasp, he seems to lose his breath definitively.

And the pain, and that dazzling light envelop him entirely. And he is swallowed up in this golden ocean until the darkness arrives.

And the only thing he hears is the sound, that hiss that has accompanied him in this whole mess.

His Alexander who’s crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, thank you for reading so far!
> 
> let me assume the serious tone of the commentator at the end of the episodes of some 90s toons: what will happen next? Will this whole pre-death experience be true? Will Magnus come back to life? Stay tuned for more...
> 
> * * *
> 
> Can I be honest?  
> I am not entirely convinced of the turn that this story is taking, of where this chapter is going this whole non-dead/pre-death experience is a whole mess! But I am sufficiently satisfied with what came out... of course, surely this chapter is full of errors and misspelling ... but I hope you have had a taste of what awaits us from here on.
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed what you have read, leave a comment or a kudo, (that would make me happy)... let me know if there are errors that make your skin crawl...
> 
> And come say hi to me [here](https://lamalefix.tumblr.com/) where I may or may not be sharing there bits of sneak peeks of the next few chapters and stories of this series...  
> Have a nice day!


	2. Tiny part still hoping.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There has never been so much silence in his head, never a silence as dull and deep as at this time.  
> And it isn’t true that in these states of suspension someone can dream, or see, you know, the entire life in a blink.  
> Magnus didn’t dream of anything.  
> He simply stayed suspended in the dark with nothing but that sound, the constant sound of Alexander suffering, to mark the time that passed. And for a while he tried to make him understand that he’s coming back, or at least he thinks he’s coming back. Because the pain that still burns in him really seems horribly real.  
> And those perceptions, that silence, that continuous lament, are real. But now there is nothing left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this notes in the train to my workplace while outside a very big ominous storm is raging... So, yeah I really hope you're all warm wherever you are and... What else!  
> Here we are, the long awaited(???) second chapter.  
> I may say, finally, we've achieved the first quarter(?) of this series. I think there will be at least two more 3/5-chapters stories in Ex Machina and a couple of one-shots...  
> Yeah, I said that I'd post this chapter two weeks ago but... What I was writing didn't seem so right in the first place, I hope this chapter is worth the wait!  
> Thank you so much for following this story!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Weird.

Waiting for the inevitable is weird.

Alec is there, sitting on the ground, somewhere not too close to the bed on which Magnus’ motionless body lies. He would like to be closer, he would like to go back there, climb on the chair that, in the five days he was at his side, was a faithful companion, giving him in its total discomfort, the right place to get space and time to move that decision that now brought him there, in that corner of the room.

To wait.

Here he is.

Waiting is weird. Above all if what you’re waiting for is the inevitable.

And Alec waits, waits and waits. Waits and perhaps he knows that what he’s waiting for has a name, a terrible and raw name, that what he’s waiting will put an end to all hope, to every possibility. It will put an end to his future.

Or maybe he doesn’t know, he doesn’t even know what he’s waiting for. Because he shouldn’t be there, he shouldn’t be waiting.

Because Magnus should already be gone. Because it is now seventy-four hours, and something more to be honest, that Alec has left his hand. Still, Magnus is alive. Magnus breathes. His heart, with that slow beat that he learned to know and love, continues to pump blood into his veins. He is alive, he is alive even without Alec giving him energy.

And perhaps, perhaps for a moment, he thought that Magnus’ survival was never his merit. That certainly Magnus, who is so vital, who is so cheerful and attached to life, wouldn’t certainly have let himself die so easily. And he hoped, when there was not that emptiness in his head, he hoped it would not be him to give him the strength, because he wouldn’t have been the material cause of his death.

And he hoped for a moment, after realizing that Magnus wasn’t really leaving, he wasn’t breathing his last breath, that letting his hand would help him, calling him back, bringing him back.

But nothing has changed.

And now his head is empty. And there is like a pendulum, a pendulum swinging somewhere in his brain, which punctuates every moment of this prolonged and horrible absence. Of this thing that has a name, which is inevitable and that should never have happened.

For a good part of his too-short relationship with Magnus, his only priority, except Magnus, was to change things, to change things because when his life was over, and it would end sooner or later because immortality is something that he wasn’t destined to touch with his hand, the changes that he would carry out with his work, with his ideas, would survive, and from time to time, looking around, Magnus could see him, or at least feel his presence.

This, in its own way, helped him to move on, to overcome the fact that, sooner or later, his life would end and the person he loved, Magnus, would have been forced to live very long, in a world in which he didn’t exist anymore.

The idea of a life without Magnus had never crossed his mind, not now, not now that after all those vicissitudes, they had found each other and had started again, or perhaps they had never stopped, to love each other, to be accomplices, to be one half of the other. So he never thought he could lose him for good. He never thought, never, he’d be alone.

But the inevitable is there, which hovers in the stagnant air of the room. Swinging on that everlasting pendulum that is in that corner of his brain and paces back and forth in the disconcerting silence of the emptiness of thoughts.

He hasn’t got enough courage to dive into the emptiness of his thoughts, in that emptiness that has the contours of an hollow harbour, without the pier where his sighing boat, his heart, can’t dock.

Nephilim love only once. And maybe it makes sense because the excruciating pain of such a loss would also weaken the best fighter. That’s why.

And he is there waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting for the inevitable that still seems so far away.

Why did he have to leave his hand? Why doesn’t it make any sense at all? He could sit there, talking softly against the now thin and almost transparent skin of his hand, occasionally stroking his hair with his light fingers and just sobbing, because he knows he would cry again and again, because Magnus wouldn’t respond to his words.

Yet, he would tell him so many things. He would like to tell him so many things. About their life, their future. And he would like to hear him laugh, he would like to hear him speak, he would like─ _he would_...

He would like to get embarrassed and tell him everything he thought about their marriage, because it’s true even without gold and runes, and burnt skin, theirs would have been a beautiful wedding anyway. They probably would have gone on another trip, like the one at the very beginning of their relationship, and they would have gone around the world. From time to time they would have annihilated some demon, even in their short vacation, and Magnus would have guided him in those corners of the world that Alec had no way to visit. And then, and then he would like to talk about the future, as if he painted it in his mind: Alec probably would like a smaller house, because doesn’t make much sense for two people to live in such a big house, or perhaps would like to adopt, a little Warlock, or even a Mundane child, so Magnus would be perfectly able to take care of him, to protect him and to love him. Or maybe he wouldn’t want to share all that love with anyone, he would like to keep it jealously, all for himself. And let himself be loved until his last breath.

But fortunately, now his head is empty. There is nothing left in his mind. It is as if the brainwaves have thinned out and have lost all their capacity.

Because Magnus is inert on the bed, and the future is pure utopia, a dream nothing more, and there is nothing left, to hope, to want. Because the inevitable is there that stretches over them and, as soon as Alec closes his eyes, it will take Magnus’ last breath.

So he stays there, his eyes fixed on the bed and no thought in his mind, because he doesn’t have the strength to think, or the courage.

Because if he thought, he would hope, and if he hoped it would still be all the more difficult.

 

The only thing that marks time, there, apart from Magnus’ continuous slow and rhythmic breath, and the light that enters through the windows and changes with the perpetual gait of day and night, is the comings and goings of Isabelle and Catarina.

Maybe sometimes they talk, or at least he hears their voices tangling in his ears but then the information can’t get anywhere, in the empty and silent jelly of his brain.

They come mainly to check that he is still alive, Alec, not Magnus. Isabelle always takes care to bring him a drink just to not let him die of dehydration, and Catarina after letting her magic hover over Magnus, turns it on him.

And now he has understood that they come to check it every four hours. Six times a day. And they talk talk talk, but he doesn’t understand.

He stopped wanting to hear.

From the moment he left Magnus’ hand the world, his world that was to end, instead of stopping, continued to turn, continued to exist. And his hands tremble. And it hurts, damn badly, because maybe his hands would stop shaking, if he took Magnus’ one.

And he waits there, waiting for Magnus’ final breath in silence, without even having the answers he wants.

Because he cursed his hand, he left him. And Magnus had to die, without suffering, letting go and passing on. Rest in peace forever.

And yet he still breathes. He still lives.

And it’s all so horribly wrong.

It’s so scary.

Because maybe a tiny part of him is still hoping.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

There has never been so much silence in his head, never a silence as dull and deep as at this time.

And it isn’t true that in these states of suspension someone can dream, or see, you know, the entire life in a blink.

Magnus didn’t dream of anything.

He simply stayed suspended in the dark with nothing but that sound, the constant sound of Alexander suffering, to mark the time that passed. And for a while he tried to make him understand that he’s coming back, or at least he thinks he’s coming back. Because the pain that still burns in him really seems horribly real.

And those perceptions, that silence, that continuous lament, are real. But now there is nothing left.

There has never been so much silence in his head, he has always had the drum of his magic, the constant murmur of ancient spells, of arcane and vanished languages that flowed inside him. There has always been noise in his mind, in his life, an orderly chaos that has never done anything but make him feel protected and powerful. A continuous and imperishable murmur, even at night, even when fatigue and weakness made his knees weaken and things gradually became confused. A noise, the hum of chaos, with which he learned to live together and that he has learned to ignore and govern, because that chaos is a weapon, it’s his magic.

But now, and he can’t say how long this is happening, now even the sound of Alexander who suffers is gone, annihilated along with the incessant roar of his magic.

And there’s nothing left. And maybe that’s it, this is what it means to die.

Total pitch black silence.

Nothingness.

And yet, everything seemed so real, everything. Above all that pain, that horrible pain.

But now that Alexander whining, Alexander crying for him, has disappeared, maybe now he can let go.

Let go and stop existing.

He hoped to go back, but hope is scary: believing he could return was silly, he made a damn deal with the Angel of Death, something unbelievable to begin with, he couldn’t really have been catapulted to the angelic choirs, what a dumb idea. And maybe it’s been so long now, maybe he’s gone for good, and Alec has already stopped thinking about him. And this can be positive, maybe he already loves someone else and he drank that potion and has forgotten about his existence, and that’s okay. Because it means that his heart has healed and can still love.

Or maybe, worse, it’s been so long that Alec has ceased to exist, that’s why he doesn’t hear anything anymore. And so yes, he must let himself go and let death welcome him and become his companion. There’s nothing left on the other side. He no longer has the strength to fight. He has nothing left to fight for.

Still, it was so beautiful, to hope.

To think of having a port to return to anyway. A heart where you can stay.

To see him once again, tell him once again how proud he was to be by his side. And how much time he still wanted to spend with him. How much he loved him. How much he still loves him.

But perhaps he imagined everything. Indeed, to think of it, someone like him certainly couldn’t go in front of the Angels and be treated as their peers, or as someone for whom it was worth wasting time.

Poor silly dreamer.

 

 

 

And when now his strength is less, when now the hope is only a light turning off in the distance, he feels it. The uncomfortable feeling of falling and finding in an infinite chasm.

As in the early stages of sleep, when it almost seems to fall and then you find yourself on your bed. Here, this is the sensation he feels, and finally he feels his legs and hands, he feels the weight of his body.

He feels the mattress, his comfortable mattress under him, he feels the soft and cosy sheets.

He hears voices, voices he can’t recognize, and then he hears that sweet voice, barely whispered, hoarse and broken.

No, he doesn’t understand what they are saying, he doesn’t have all these mental faculties, but he could swear that the sweetest voice is addressed to him, and it is broken, raspy and dim. But it’s unmistakable, that is his Alexander’s. And he would give all the time he’s left to understand what he’s saying.

Because Alec is talking to him softly, and he just sobs.

And maybe this is also a weird near-death experience, but that’s okay. It’s okay to delude himself like that.

And he lets himself be lulled by that voice, by the memory of light fingers that he feels runs through his hair, and already tastes an awakening that perhaps won’t be there, which is perhaps only a distant and impossible dream.

And soon again the voice is so far away and the silence envelops him again.

 

And God, God, how much he would like to wake up and stop him from suffering.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At one point, Alec decided to get close to the bed, to drag himself there and try to understand, to try to have time.

It hurts. And it is a profound pain, an inner pain.

Since Alec has left Magnus’ hand, and now its more than seventy-four hours ago, his hands, his fingers tremble. He backed up suddenly and collapsed to the ground, back to the wall, his heart beating hard and seem to want to jump out of his chest.

Catarina assured him that Magnus would die as soon as he stopped holding his hand and instead he’ still breathing there. Maybe he’s also suffering.

God.

And Alec has flabby knees, he can’t get up. He was there in the corner of the room watching him breathe for too long, doing nothing, when he would have to return nearby and take his hand back until he was alive, give him more time, give himself more time.

And his eyes burn, and his breath is short, it scrapes his throat, while his heart beats hard, and he seems to hit against his ribcage with violence.

Isabelle was the first to rush in there, seventy-four hours ago, perhaps alerted by the fact that backing away, the chair on which he sat fell to the ground. And she saw him there, broken, away from Magnus when in practice he had left him only in the hands of his siblings, and had never left, never for five whole days. And she called Catarina, at one point, while he crouched next to him and tried to give him a little comfort.

But Magnus breathes. He still breathes even though Alec has stopped giving him energy. And they assured him that he would die without suffering, that he would leave without much difficulty. And now he has left his hand and Magnus is dying, but it will take time. Time that Alec would have liked to spend near him, but on the other hand he would have had to curb that irresistible call that is holding his hand and giving him more energy. Energy that doesn’t have, by the way.

And his sister’s voice tried to lift him from his darkest thoughts.

He abandoned him. He abandoned Magnus. He let him go and he is dying. And it’s all Alec’s fault because he chose Jace. He chose Jace over Magnus.

Isabelle spoke softly to him, her tone reassuring and gentle, even though her voice trembled and was filled with a disconcerting sadness. He never wanted to be seen like that by his sister in particular, breaking her heart like this. And maybe she told him that everything is fine, but Alec didn’t really listen to her. And no, nothing is fine, anyway: he did the hardest thing in the world; he let go of the love of his life, he left his hand and now he is only waiting for his last breath. Or maybe Isabelle just held him in her arms and told him something softly, just about anything to soothe his short, torn breath, to calm the irregular beating of his broken heart. And his sister’s voice trembled, then, from time to time as if to restrain a sob.

And maybe she didn’t notice, hasn’t noticed that Magnus was still alive there on the bed, breathing.

And even now, seventy-four hours later, his heart beats and he doesn’t seem so inclined to die. Not yet at least.

Isabelle just hugged him more strongly, to keep his head under her neck to give him some shelter and allow him to cry in peace.

And then, when his breathing was finally even, she left for a patrol.

 

And now, they are there, Isabelle, and Catarina.

And again Catarina’s magic is swaying like smoke on the shape on the bed, on Magnus’ body. And it seems to be probing his condition once again. And something snaps in him, finally.

«I did as you told me.» Alec murmurs, at one point, and perhaps his voice is trembling. «I left his hand, I left his hand. You said... _you said_ ─».

«I know. I know what I said, Alec. And I can’t explain what’s happening right now…» she mutters, without even turning around. «Maybe you gave him enough energy to support him for a while...» she adds, shrugging. «I do not know, Alec».

And maybe he can’t even recognize his own rage, how much it burns in his chest, in his throat. «You don’t know? You don’t know?! How comes that? How could you not know?» he growls and can’t really assess how  harshly those words come out from his lips. «I left his hand as you said, but it’s been three whole days!» and his chest vibrates with a sob. «I... I left him I let him go...» he repeates in a faint voice.

And Isabelle tightens her grip on his shoulders. «You have done everything possible, Alec.» she tells him, her voice trembling as she sniffled. «We just have to wait, I guess...».

«I do not know how to explain it to you, really.» the blue Warlock murmurs.

And Alec sinks more in Isabelle’s embrace, just for a moment, before deciding to go back, giving Magnus all his attentions.

He doesn’t even have the strength to stand up, he doesn’t even have the courage to do it, he just wants to be there. Close to Magnus and that’s it.

And now he’s there. And it hurts. Because Magnus hasn’t moved, indeed, is simply immobile. And if his chest didn’t get up and get down with every breath...

After a long moment of silence, in which Alec has probed every single possibility. And now he is more than certain that Magnus will die and suffer greatly in doing so.

Alec looks up at the blue Warlock. «Can you avoid him suffering? Can you... I don’t know... make him sleep more deeply?».

Catarina just sighs and puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it a bit. «It wouldn’t change much, you know? I do not think he feels anything, Alec».

«The other time, when I left him he seemed to choke. Will he choke?» he asks quietly, tears pressing in the corners of his eyes and making them burn. «I don’t want... I don’t want him to suffer, eh? I can’t see him like this... let alone see him suffer. Please, Cat...».

But Catarina sighs and shakes her head.

And Alec snorts, an impossible rage that he didn’t believe he had the strength to feel, suddenly burns in his heart. And he would like to get rid of all the hatred he has in his heart, but he limits himself to staying silent.

«I do not know, Alec.» she sighs again. «I didn’t even believe it was possible for you to give him energy, but... it looks like that. I think this is the only sensible thing: the only reason why his body is still alive is because you gave him energy. It can’t be otherwise».

«Are you sure about this?» Isabelle asks, behind her.

«We have already talked about it, even if the process of energy exchange must be started by those who receive that energy,» Catarina explains. «Alec evidently wanted this thing to work so badly that bypassed this process».

And Alec keeps his eyes narrowed, he would give everything, everything he has to Magnus, for up to the air he breathes. Everything. And if so, if he started this process, maybe he can find a way to get him back.

No, what is he thinking? Nothing has changed, nothing has changed and Magnus is there between life and death. More dead than alive.

«I left his hand,» he repeats slowly. And he would like to stop repeating it, but it’s true. He is letting him go.

«Yes, and maybe, I told you... you gave him so much energy, that’s why it will take a while...» she murmurs again. «We should just...» and she stops suddenly, as if her attention had been stolen by something, something on Magnus’ face.

And so Alec also shifts his gaze and forces it on the love of his life. And nothing seems changed. He is still there, motionless with a relaxed face and his chest rising and lowering with each breath.

And maybe he wants to stay a little more alone with him, and when none is watching him pick up his hand again and bring it to his mouth to kiss it. Kissing him too, his lips, and holding him to himself and trying to take more time, more time to find a solution. Maybe, maybe they could summon Raziel, maybe the Angel could grant a wish. Or maybe he should just stop trying to find solutions to a problem that doesn’t have any.

Catarina gasps. And that sound attracts Alec’s attention.

«Isabelle.» she says softly, and her voice is like a whisper in her throat. «Take Alec out, please…» she mutters, pointing randomly to the Shadowhunter.

And Alec just moves and doesn’t have the courage to speak, and maybe even he could feel that suddenly he has his heart in his throat and not just because he doesn’t want to leave Magnus for nothing in the world, for absolutely nothing in the world, but because he doesn’t really like the Warlock’s tone. And certainly, Isabelle won’t even try to get close and force him to get away from there, she doesn’t even move. He waits, he waits and observes, observes Magnus’ face that looks exactly like a moment ago, relaxed. But all of a sudden it seems that his mouth opens up just a little bit more like more air. And maybe Alec expects to hear a little gasp, a little dull noise that makes it clear that this is actually his last breath. _Or maybe_...

There is a very slight movement, beneath his closed eyelids, as if his eyes, as if his eyes were moving.

And Alec gasps noisily, and is afraid even of that fleeting thought that runs through his head. Of that strange hope that burns in his eyes.

«What’s up?» Isabelle asks quietly, her voice trembling as she moves two steps toward them, the heels ticking on the floor.

«Alec, please...» Catarina begins to say, but her voice suddenly disappears. «Just a moment, then I’ll let you in, okay?».

«I’m going out if you tell me what’s going on,» he murmurs with a faint voice. «It’s time, right? He’s... He’s─ _He’s_...» he stutters and looks up at her. «Is he dying?» and these last words come out like a whisper.

And Catarina shakes her head. «No, Alec, no. I just wanted to check this thing, just for... before telling you with certainty...».

«What?» Alec hisses. «What do you want to be sure of?».

Isabelle offers him her hand. «Come on, come with me for a moment, please».

«No. No, I want to know Iz.» he growls, and perhaps he couldn’t even raise his voice with her, but then he looks at her, and her eyes are filled with tears, perhaps almost as much as Alec’s and he sighs. «If it’s his last moments, I must... I have to stay here with him, do you understand?».

And his sister nods slowly. «It’s only for a minute, Alec, come on with me, just a minute... let’s go out for a moment let’s do this for Magnus… I promise I’ll bring you back in a minute, count up to sixty and you’re back here, okay? One minute and I’ll bring you back in.» she whispers.

«Do not make me use magic and send you out of here, Alec, you’re exhausted and I don’t know how your body would react...» the Warlock whispers softly, her tone not even remotely harsh.

«Explain to me though. I go out on my legs if you explain to me.» he murmurs.

But even before Catarina opens her mouth, Magnus’ breath hisses at the back of his throat and seems to be moaning slightly.

And a shiver climbs down Alec’s back, icy and disturbing. And in his head, he keeps repeating himself like the tolling of that inexorable pendulum that is happening. He’s dying. Magnus is dying.

«He’s suffering, do you see that?» he murmurs and hardly resists the urgency of taking his hand or trying to lift his head to make him breathe better. «I don’t want to go out, if he’s dying... I have to stay close to him, he would do it for me...».

And Magnus coughs slowly, as if his breath scrapes his throat and begins to get shorter and shorter. A bit like Alec’s. And he can’t help but keep his eyes on him, and he would like to help him so much, just enough to make him breathe better. And damn he’s trying to ignore the fathomless rage that is mounting inside him, because Catarina isn’t doing anything, nothing to help him, nothing to not make him suffer. God.

«He’s not dying, Alec. Do you see that little movement that his eyes do? Right under the eyelids?» she whispers and points to Magnus’ face, his eyelids in fact seems to move with the movement of his eyes.

And he hears a sound, Isabelle pulling a long sigh broken, and suddenly his sister’s fingers are in his hair, in a gesture that perhaps doesn’t just want to give him comfort, but something else, something that Alec doesn’t dare to understand. Because now he has so many words in his head that can’t reach his throat and find the voice, a way out. And he wants to know, because everything seemed so absurd, until yesterday, until he left his hand, Magnus was lost and now─ _now_...

«I’m not sure how it’s possible, but... it looks like he’s waking up,» the Warlock adds with an immensely relieved sigh.

And something suddenly stops, the whole world stops and even Alec’s head is completely emptied.

«What?» he asks softly, and his tone is somewhat deep and broken.

«Cat said he seems to be waking up...» Isabelle repeats, and the voice this time has a different tone, it seems excited, but positive.

And Alec nods, as if trying to make her understand that, yes so far he had understood, but how was this possible was his real question, a question that he couldn’t ask, of course.

Catarina sighs again. «It would seem, but... to be sure, I have to do some... let’s call them exams, and since it’s a pretty powerful magic I’d ask you to go out, I need a lot of concentration and Magnus could whine a little, it could hurt him and so...».

«Are you going to hurt him?» Alec asks again, his voice comes out with difficulty, quivering. And he tries to ignore the blow to the heart he has received, because hope is frightening, and he is terrified to say the least. Because if it weren’t true, if this were a mistake, his heart wouldn’t hold up this time. It wouldn’t endure it.

«I could hurt him. Yes.» the blue Warlock nods. «But it’s a matter of a couple of minutes, really».

And Alec swallows, something, something he doesn’t want to name, and burns in his eyes and maybe he feels his own heart screaming, or maybe it’s his skin, he wants to get back that contact, now more than ever. «But when I come back, can I touch him? Can I hold his hand or… I don’t know.» he asks again, this time he has a clear idea in mind.

«I don’t see why not.» Catarina replies with a light smile and glances, perhaps a look of understanding that Alec doesn’t really want to investigate, at Isabelle. «Now your sister takes you out, maybe even makes you drink a nice glass of water and eat something, and in two minutes at most I’ll let you in, okay?».

And Alec takes only a few seconds to look at Magnus one last time before letting himself be taken out. And it seems so quiet, so still and so perfectly equal to before perhaps a part of him doesn’t want to believe what they just told him, what Catarina has just told him, but he must trust.

He must trust Magnus, first of all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s like re-emerging from a deep dive underwater. Or at least Magnus is sure that’s how it feels, not being a lover of water, he can’t really know it. But yes, certainly re-emerge from a deep dive underwater must give you that thrill, that sudden feeling of being, of _feeling_. Feeling every single part of the body. Of his being. Finally having the clear and glaring understanding of what that famous sixth sense is. _Proprioception_.

Magnus has always had a certain capacity to _feel_ , to perceive every single part of himself. Having his magic flowing in every single cell, he has always had in mind where every fibre of his being is found. He has always had conception, knowledge of every single part of the body.

But it was a while, a little too long for his tastes, that he didn’t feel himself.

And the first thing he feels is his toes and heels, which are abandoned on that mattress that is immensely comfortable for how much every single part of him is in a hallucinating pain.

And gradually he can feel his knees, his back, maybe he would swear to feel all the vertebral pads just crunching, popping, and then his shoulders, his arms, his hands, first his palms and then his fingers, and his neck.

The head still seems to float in that black and dark primordial broth that is the confusion that enveloped him completely just a few moments ago and perhaps still envelops him a bit.

The back of his neck hurts, it hurts like his abdomen, or maybe his stomach. Everything burns in an unnatural and indistinct way as if his body had been abandoned on the hot coals, but his nape and the abdomen give him a particular pain, as if that fire came from there.

And now it’s like walking in the desert, air hot and short in his throat, now that he feels he has one, the trachea seems to hardly welcome the hot oxygen. It’s like he hasn’t touched water for days and certainly even his lips are chapping with all that disconcerting burning thirst.

Yet, yet he has never felt so alive.

Or maybe yes. Maybe in Alexander’s arms he felt more alive than that. But it is pleasant to feel. _Feeling_. Being alive, maybe.

And maybe he coughs, maybe something stays in his throat and it’s hard to get it down.

Try looking around but maybe his eyelids are still ajar. Pasted by fatigue, by a weariness that burns his soul.

And no, he doesn’t feel anything, except this far-off patter that seem like footsteps or the soft voices that come in his mind, and seem distant echoes. Like ancient and impossible dreams.

And then suddenly there is something familiar and at the same time extremely unknown but reassuring that slowly envelops him.

It’s the gentle caress of a magic that seems to cover his whole body with an impossible delicacy.

And Magnus is making himself lulled by this magic, he is trying to go back to sleep, when suddenly the cloud that envelops him, so relaxing and protective, becomes like a meat hammer, which is pounding on him with arrogance. With violence. And it hurts horribly, because the magic when it’s used for belligerent purposes is violent, even the one the best healer, becomes an impossible weapon: it burns like acid and is as sharp as the worst sword, crosses the body if used with the clear intent to kill, like a knife would sink into butter. And perhaps, perhaps a small part of him, the one who is still clinging to his body, tries to react. He tries to protect himself, because all of a sudden the magic that seemed to want him to brutalize, annihilate, destroy him finally disappears.

And Magnus is tired, so tired that he can hardly hear what’s happening around him and maybe it’s still a dream. Or maybe it’s that tortuous journey that the Angel said in his strange farewell speech. Or maybe he really dreamed of Raziel.

And then the magic returns and he reacts again, but this time it’s stronger than before and seems to want to rip him away, to rip everything away, it seems to want to burn his soul and annihilate his body. And this time it isn’t enough that small part of him still clinging to his immortality, his magic, to survive. It takes all his good will, it takes all his strength.

All he has.

And then there is a loud noise.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Alec who felt emptied, emptied of all these horrible, horrible days spent next to Magnus to find the strength to let him go, now he is afraid to hope. An impossible and senseless fear because Magnus is there, in the other room, breathing on his own and his heart beats and began to move, microscopic movements, but real, _real_. And maybe he can hope a bit.

Or maybe he’s already hoping.

Because when Catarina opens the door and beckons him to come back with a strange smile, her hair all ruffled, and her clothes rumpled and burned as if she had fought a tremendous battle, he snaps up like a spring and reduces the space that separates him from the room in half a second to return to his place, near the bed.

There’s an infernal mess in the room that wasn’t there or that he hadn’t noticed before. But the chair, his chair he had sat in the past few days, the one on which he usually wore his clothes to slip under the covers with Magnus if he was too late and he didn’t really want to tidy up, is reduced to a pile of ash on the ground, the curtains are all burned and their remains flutter with the cold air of the night that enters from the broken glass of the window, the sheets, those that Magnus held so much and that jealously kept, are all shredded. Even the wallpaper, the floor, the furniture, even the headboard of the bed, everything is burned. It’s as if a fire had flared up here, or as if there had been a terrible battle, a battle of which he and his sister in the other room didn’t even have the furthest scent. And there is incandescent dust that is swept into his face with that light, light air that enters from the broken window glass.

And maybe Alec would like to open his mouth and ask what happened, but the only thing that matters is crouching near the bed, even on his knees, and pick up Magnus’ hand and bring it to his mouth and start thinking about a future that maybe now it could really be possible.

«What happened?» Isabelle asks slowly.

«Oh, this?» Catarina whispers in a strangely cheerful tone. «He reacted. He reacted, when I tried to attack him with my magic... I proceeded to lock up his reaction here in the walls of the room, clearly that if you two were here you would have risked becoming angelic powder...» she adds winking a bit and calls her magic to repair all the damage to the room.

«Did it react?» Isabelle repeats.

«Yes, he’s waking up.» the Warlock nods. «I’ve tried other times to check if he’d had control of his magic, but only today, only now, he has... it means that he isn’t dead, and he doesn’t seem to intend to do it... he is no longer an empty shell».

And Alec feels his knees become butter, while he collapses near the bed and goes to pick up Magnus’ hand, but first of all he gazes at Catarina. A silent question, a request made only with the eyes. That "Can I?" that hovers in his breath.

Catarina smiles. «What are you waiting for, Alec?».

And Alec wasn’t expecting anything else, really. He picks up Magnus’ hand and takes it to his mouth, while all around them the room returns to its original splendour. And, frankly, it doesn’t matter to him how the bedroom is, the important thing is that Magnus returns. He could wait all his life, he doesn’t care, the important thing is to get him back, to know he’s coming back. And the feeling of finally having that contact, skin against skin, even if it is only their hands, is enough and to moves forward and finally feel better. To breathe better. And he could swear that all the rest of the world, everything around them disappears altogether, as if only the two of them existed.

«But...» says Catarina, while the sheets return intact before everything else, seen and considered that Magnus would slaughter her there on two feet discovering that his precious sheets have been reduced that way.

«But?» Isabelle repeats, more alerted than Alec. Still, Alec heard that adversative conjunction. And even though he is much more involved in keeping Magnus’ hand and enjoying the slight movements of his eyes, his lips which are now slightly open to better gather the air, he would like to know more.

Catarina just sighs. «But it’s different from usual, his magic. Much more powerful, much less... I don’t know, as soon as he wakes up I’ll have to check some things... and I’ll need your technologies, your laboratories... my magic won’t be enough».

And Alec remains silent. It will be enough to ask permission from the Head of the Institute, and certainly it won’t be difficult to have it. But first they have to wait for Magnus to come back, wake up finally and open his eyes.

The rather annoying sound of the anti-demon sensor whistles in his ears and Isabelle snorts. «I have to go. As soon as I finish, I’ll come back here, eh?».

Alec doesn’t even seem to listen to her, but then he looks away from Magnus and smiles at her. And perhaps it is the first true smile in days and his sister’s eyes widen, and they seem full of tears. «Be careful out there, eh?».

«Always.» she nods, walking out.

And he returns to observe Magnus as soon as he hears the door of the apartment close.

Catarina moves slowly. «It will take a while to wake up».

«But he’s on the right track, right?» he whispers, his lips on Magnus’ hand.

She sits on the bed. «You should rest a little, you know? You are exhausted Alec, you didn’t sleep for days... what you called sleep is not even a sorry excuse for an after-lunch nap...» she grumbles. «Because you know that he worries and then…».

«I rest when I’m sure his eyes are open.» he assures her, he need it, he knows, but he wants to be there when he wakes up. «When I’m sure he’s awake and doesn’t go back like this... I want to be sure... just this».

«Can I give you a kind of energizer if you want... a little spell, mh?» she offers a kind soft expression on her face.

«No, no, I don’t want anything, I just want to stay here. And you’ve already done enough, maybe you should rest too, Cat. You used a lot of magic…» he mumbles, smiling slightly.

And Catarina sighs and perhaps decides to let it go, or to follow his advice and move towards the living room. Or maybe Alec is so tired, that he doesn’t even notice that she is still there and observes him. And perhaps Alec, if only he knew that she is there, would know what she sees: Alec in his total fragility, in the fragility of that hope hanging by a thread, hanging by Magnus combativeness. His shoulders curved on the bed, all crumpled as he is to hold Magnus’ hand his lips, while he talks to him slowly but uninterruptedly.

And maybe Alec doesn’t even know what he’s saying, or maybe he hasn’t even noticed that he’s talking, but for sure, he’s certainly asking him to come back.

He has no idea how much time passes, he doesn’t even notice the fact that Catarina at one point moves really in the living room and leaves them alone for a bit, but he certainly is there to wait. And he doesn’t know how long it will take, but he has the certainty that Magnus is coming back and maybe it will not take him that long: because Magnus is resolute, he is one who doesn’t give up so easily of his own life.

And so, yes, he just has to wait.

 

But suddenly, between a kiss and a whisper, Alec feels that hand, the hand that was there abandoned in his, finally fill with life and return his grip, just barely. Fingers tighten on his skin weakly.

He feels it. He’s coming back to him. Magnus is starting to live again.

And no, he didn’t expect it. Catarina told him, she told him it would happen, he knows what’s going on, but the shock of emotion that collapses on him like a thundering waterfall, which hits him in the stomach, and shortens his breath when Magnus grunts slowly and moves his head on the side, is completely unexpected.

And now, everything is clearer, more palpable.

And maybe he’s a little panicked now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It hurts.

And this thought is a bit redundant. It repeats annoyingly in his head. It originates from every corner of his body, climbs along the spine and radiates in the cerebral volutes pulsing annoyingly in every neuron.

But it’s nice, not for some strange fetish, it’s nice to _feel_ , even if it hurts. Feel the magical energy flowing into his cells. And then there is that touch, which clasps his hand, a voice that slowly murmurs in his ears. And warms his heart and now, now more than ever he wants to open his eyes and go back.

Because he’s coming back, right?

And he feels like moving a bit. And maybe his fingers try to respond to that sweet touch, and he tightens his eyelids.

The voice, the voice that he knows well, softly murmurs, again and again, begs him to come back, to come back because he is waiting for him. Alexander is waiting for him.

The voice that speaks to him, softly, is of a disarming sweetness. And Magnus could also swear to hear the words cross the layers of the skin of his hand, travel the veins and get to the heart. And he would swear, God, that that sound that echoes in his heart, has always been there. And not only in that state of inexistence, even before. Since forever.

Probably, and perhaps this is something that he will have to deepen, his heart has always waited only for Alexander, as if all the other thousands of relationships, would serve only to pave the way to Alexander Gideon Lightwood, as if they were the general rehearsals, and not the background of all this. Of their great love.

And Alec’s voice suddenly breaks, the words tremble against the thin, transparent skin of his hand. And Magnus feels like holding that hand that holds his. And the words are lost, both those whispered with that impossible voice, with that delicacy that looks like the pinch of a harp, but also those in Magnus’ head, which already didn’t make much sense before, disappear.

They become dust and wind.

And perhaps it is only at that moment, when everything is darker, and the infinite time before him seems even more eternal, that finally his eyelids respond to his silent pleading.

And at first, it’s all dark, as if the cat’s slits of his eyes couldn’t capture the right light, which is impossible, but he’s still quite a bit crooked.

But then the darkness begins to thin out, and everything seems to acquire colour, from the centre to the periphery of his field of vision, which, to be very honest, is still a bit black, a bit dark.

And he sees it, finally, focuses on it, that head of ruffled hair, those two eyes that occasionally flickered in his conscience. And Alec suddenly seems to notice them, his eyes open, and now he has his mouth wide open to call someone, to take more air...

That wonderful man, who has evidently been there for days, all bent over his cumbersome stature, now seems to shine with his own light. And his warrior body seems fragile. And maybe his face is dug by fatigue, a slight hint of beard that sharpens his face. And maybe Magnus smiles, or at least feels his lips tighten slightly and pull up in the corners. While Alec speaks to him, and seems like an ancient and unknown language, and perhaps Magnus doesn’t have the proper mental strength to understand what those words are, what they mean.

And maybe he closes his eyes again, because it’s all dark again.

 

It’s all dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are horrible mistakes or misspelling I didn't notice in the editing...  
> And let me know if you liked it by leaving a kudo or a comment!  
> And let me know your suggestions on what the two of them will lose!  
> Thank you again for reading! ❤️


	3. Live and Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Alec seems to shake a little, while a strange expression draws on his trembling lips. And then his knees seem to no longer support him, his whole height seems to crumple back to the ground, collapsing. And a sob escapes him.  
> And then another.  
> And Magnus’ heart makes that dive again, which isn’t pleasant at all, to be honest. As if his heart had decided to take a ride in the stomach and then go up in his throat.  
> At the end with a huge effort, that he couldn’t remember to get out of bed being so difficult, he can move, to sit up and stretch to give him a minimum of comfort. And Alec immediately hugs his hips and sinks his face in his lap. «Don’t do it never again, don’t do it again,» he hears him say softly, his voice all mumbled and muffled against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we are! To tell you the truth this chapter was the most hard to write... I've written and erased this like ten times, and being honest I don't think I like the outcome... But, I couldn't wait any longer since this starts to define the pivotal point of this whole series.   
> Soon enough you'll know the meaning of this...  
> See you at the end notes!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silence.

Alec would swear that his head was completely empty. Like at night, when he is too tired to dream, and the only thing that is close to reality is the warmth that the body next to him releases, and envelops him in a warm and gentle embrace. Familiar.

Now, now instead he could swear that everything, everything has become silent again. of that silence that made all his words, all his thoughts disappear.

But it isn’t a scary silence, it’s something good this time, because Magnus has opened his eyes.

Magnus has opened his eyes.

He opened them and smiled at him, and from Alec’s head, all thoughts fled. All the words. Everything. Every single thing.

And maybe it’s like when he wants to say a lot of things, but he doesn’t know where to start. Here, surely it’s this. And his mental faculties weren’t completely annihilated. It’s as if that river full of thoughts, that river of words, is overflowing and has drowned everything in its wave.

Magnus’ smile, although stained by this incredible fatigue, made him lose his breath and with it the words and all the rest. That very light expression of complete devotion that shone in his eyes for that one single moment in which they were opened, took his breath away and made his heart beat so hard that he almost seemed to die.

He is awake.

Or rather, he is waking up.

Because after a while, while Alec found the words and called Catarina, he went back to sleep.

And this time Alec knows for sure he’s sleeping. Because as much as Magnus occasionally jokes on his very light snoring, and how adorable it is, Alec has never told him that he tends to mumble while he sleeps, when his sleep is deeper. And it’s adorable, yes, but that’s another point.

And his knees were trembling again, and he definitely dropped by the bed, while Catarina confirmed his idea: Magnus fell asleep.

And maybe, maybe Alec is happy.

Happy as he ever thought he could be again. As happy as when he came home after a long, too long work day and was walking with heavy steps but with light heart in front of that door, ready to get into his house, ready to forget the day.

Or maybe even more. He’s maybe happier.

Of that indescribable happiness that radiated in him when Magnus finally decided to forgive him, to take him back with him despite all the crappy choices, despite his mortal and his life having a fixed term.

And maybe there’s a bit of pain too, a bit of terror and something else he doesn’t want to name.

Because there is always a tad of something to make his happiness more palpable, something that sharply contrasts his joy. Something that, no, he doesn’t dare to name. Something that, of course, has connotations that Alec now knows well enough to be almost afraid of.

And he doesn’t want to know more.

Not now, because Magnus is coming back. And he just wants to immerse himself in all that love. They’ll cross that bridge when they come to it. He just wants to wait and see him awake.

After the usual checks, the usual reassurance, Catarina told him fleetingly that she would go away for a while and will come back later the next day, Magnus will take a while to wake up completely, and with the latest recommendations to rest at least a little bit, greeted Alec and jumped into the portal.

And throughout that night Magnus occasionally mumbles. Sometimes he seems to call him, with that voice hoarse and weak, while slowly moving, as if looking for more warmth. And Alec moves to better arrange the covers, to tuck him in, and try to give him more warmth. Every single time he would like to lie there, close to him and hug him, but he genuinely is afraid of falling asleep. And not because he didn’t want to follow Catarina’s advice, her continuous echo that he must rest, that he must sleep, not that you can’t define Alec a type a little uncooperative and stubborn, at least lately, because he tried with all he had, with all his might to stay awake until now. Yeah, he is simply afraid.

But perhaps at some point his body actually failed. All his resolve, all his strength, the little that remained but that he found reborn and ready for this last step, has failed and he has collapsed permanently with his head on the bed, on the mattress, near Magnus and he actually fell asleep. Or at least, at a certain point he realized that he was no longer straight, that everything was confused and black, that perhaps that position was the most uncomfortable in the world, but that he no longer had the strength to move from there.

And maybe, he panicked a little because, no, he absolutely didn’t have to sleep. He had to wait awake. Damn.

But the week, or maybe more, indeed certainly more, and maybe Alec has really counted the days, hours, minutes of all that enormous impossible absence that has dug into him until today, is over and certainly all the adrenaline, the effects of the stamina runes that kept him awake, that have kept him active until now, are definitely faded, depleted, gone.

And now there is only this huge, absolute silence. And he’s asleep, a sleep without dreams.

Dark and black, as empty as his head.

The sleep of the warrior, who has fought until now, and now is too exhausted even just to think a little more. To think that, hey, it’s almost over.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He seemed to wake up at least once before he officially had full possession of his mental faculties.

The first time it was dark, but the tepid dim light from Greenpoint apartments came in through the open curtains, New York never sleeps. That soft light drew the contours of a figure crumpled up close to him, curled up with his head on the mattress and the rest of the body left on the ground. And he seems to have thought that certainly that is a very uncomfortable position and maybe he should have helped him. Because that was definitely Alexander, and in his outrageous height, his back would scream in horror at the pain in the morning, Angelic blood or not. But in practice he hasn’t succeeded in recalling his magic to make him levitate on the bed, to slip it under the covers and rub on him then to look for a little more warmth. A warmth that perhaps now Magnus needs, since the burning that had taken possession of his body, of his whole body, in the end was completely gone and left him with this continuous shiver that runs down his spine. But even before snapping his fingers, he had his heavy limbs again and his eyelids forced him to sleep a little longer.

The second time there is a cold light that leaks from the weft of the curtains this time pulled, the light of a gloomy morning, the raindrops tick on the glass with a certain insistence. The sky is dark, leaden. The figure is still there, crumpled up close to him, and perhaps has changed position, since it seems closer. And Magnus this time manages to have a minimum of control over his body, and moves his hand to caress the mountain of black hair, and lets his fingers run on his skin for a moment.

And like a spring, the head snaps up and the unmistakable eyes, those eyes of that breathtaking blue, are all shiny when they look at him. And his mouth is ajar in this incredulous expression that Magnus certainly would like to kiss him away immediately.

But there is something that draws his attention, a loud noise, something that drums into his ears and has never noticed before, never, that he taps in his ears with more insistence of the rain. And it’s certainly the sound of Alec’s heart, his heartbeat. Strong and clear in his ears, an insistent sound that seems haywire, like when you run at breakneck speed.

But suddenly it’s immediately racket, the door opens and enters that freight train that is the noisy blond Shadowhunter. Which certainly could have chosen another moment to enter, of course.

But maybe that’s why Jace ran into that room, because the rune alerted him to this sort of panic that broke out in Alexander.

«Hey, what’s wrong Alec? Another nightmare?» Jace mutters, ruffling his hair as he moves his hand to scratch the back of his head. «Alec, hey?» he calls again, slowly approaching, cautiously, as if afraid of his reaction.

And Magnus would lie if he said it didn’t matter to hear Alec’s voice first, waking up. But it is more than happy to finally hear the voices, to hear what they say. And so perhaps, but only perhaps, he tends his lips in a light smile, as if for gratitude or all his attentions are on Alec, who is now pale as a rag and has his mouth wide open and doesn’t even look at him anymore.

That thing, that noise that he can only hear now, Alexander’s heart beating wildly, can’t be something that Magnus is imagining.

«Alec it was a dream, it was just a dream. Magnus is waking up...» and maybe Magnus should let him know that he’s already awake. Or maybe even this is all a bad dream.

But then Magnus decides to move his hand again to pick up Alec’s, clenched tightly on the sheet. But Alec seems light-years away from there, he seems in a world of his own. And maybe it’s a panic attack, or maybe he’s so immersed in his waking nightmare that he doesn’t notice there everyone is awake.

While Jace in a flicker of formidable attention, he notices it. «Alec! Alec! Magnus is awake. Hey?» he mutters and just shakes him, as if trying to wake him from his nightmare. But without managing much. And then he turns to Magnus docilely, a long sigh before speaking. «It was a bad week... let’s say».

Week.

_A week_.

God.

And then Magnus decides to play the sick, to take time to solve this, perhaps to calm Alec it would be enough to make him fall asleep again with the magic, but certainly he doesn’t want to drive him crazy and maybe he doesn’t even have full control of his magic, right now. Better avoid it. Here, yes, pretending to be sick is the best choice.

«Water.» Magnus says, and when that single word comes out of his throat he feels that burning again, an irremediable thirst, but he must ignore the annoyance. «Water, bring us some water. Please.» he mutters and as he follows from the corner of his eye Jace who jumps to the door, he tries to ignore the fact that Alexander is clearly having a breakdown there in front of him.

And as the beating of his heart grows, and his breath is shortened, perhaps from Alec’s lips runs away something, like a bumpy rumble. He seems to say something very similar to “I fell asleep” that repeats and repeats all over again and looks like something infinite, imperishable, transcendent and perhaps the sound of his heart is so strong covers that voice so feeble.

«Alexander...» he murmurs slowly, and Alec stares at him with terrified, wide eyes. «Hey,» he says even softer. «Good morning».

And there is silence.

Silence.

A strange silence that seems to cloud the sound that he heard before, that he would have sworn to hear, but perhaps it was all his brainchild.

But then suddenly the sound seems to stop for a moment, and invests Magnus like a waterfall. Here, Alec saw him, he realized he’s there. That he is finally there. That all that agony is over. His pupils dilate and just squish the blue irises, in this surprised and clumsy expression that melts Magnus heart even more.

«Hey,» he answers with a faint voice, his eyes red and full of tears. «Hey, you’re awake».

«Yes,» he replies with a small smile. «You can’t... sleep on the floor, Alexander... rheumatism will come sooner or later...» he murmurs again, in a low voice, because perhaps he wouldn’t have the strength to speak louder than that. And maybe he doesn’t have the courage to tell him something serious, to talk about this situation, about... of all this mess.

And Alec seems so small now, not only young, but so minute, so fragile that he looks like a fallen nest, while he shrugs and holds a dreamy smile, that instant before throwing weight on him and hugging him close, so strong that take his breath away.

And Magnus could swear that even his heart made that strange dive and that the sound is now strong, strong in his ears, and mixes with his heart perfectly in a strange harmony like an overture. And maybe, but this is another matter, he didn’t know he had so much air in his lungs when Alec ended up on him. But it’s so nice, feeling him.

But even before Magnus can respond to the hug and snug a little bit closer to Alec and taste the warmth he was looking for, the Shadowhunter pulls himself up and sighs.

«Excuse me, did I... did I hurt you?» he stutters. «It’s just that…».

«No, come here.» Magnus grumbles, spreading his arms again. «I’m fine, come here... a little slower, maybe but...» he adds, winking at him.

And Alec makes that awkward smile a little dizzy, but stays in place and shakes his head. «I have to call everyone. Tell them that you are... I have to... I have to get you a drink. I have to... I have to─» he babbles, then, standing up, wavering a moment. He already has his eyes on the other side of the room, fixed on the door.

« _Alec_.» Magnus hisses, the most peremptory tone that can attract his attention. He purposely used that name, the one he never uses.

And the young Shadowhunter looks at him. And Magnus might swear to see the subtle capillaries pulsing in his deep circles, he could swear to see the tiny movements of the muscles that make up those blue irises tighten just under the thrust of the dilating pupil. Alec doesn’t like it when Magnus calls him that.

«Alexander.» he calls him again, this time more gently. «Stay here, you’re exhausted...» he murmurs. «Come here, let Jace do everything».

And Alec seems to shake a little, while a strange expression draws on his trembling lips. And then his knees seem to no longer support him, his whole height seems to crumple back to the ground, collapsing. And a sob escapes him.

And then another.

And Magnus’ heart makes that dive again, which isn’t pleasant at all, to be honest. As if his heart had decided to take a ride in the stomach and then go up in his throat.

At the end with a huge effort, that he couldn’t remember to get out of bed being so difficult, he can move, to sit up and stretch to give him a minimum of comfort. And Alec immediately hugs his hips and sinks his face in his lap. «Don’t do it, never again. Don’t do it again,» he hears him say softly, his voice all mumbled and muffled against him.

And Magnus sighs, and his shoulders tremble, as he lets his fingers slide to caress Alexander’s hair. And maybe Alec’s eyes burn like his.

And a little he thanks heaven when Jace enters, noisy as usual, in that room with a carafe of water and two glasses.

«Of course you have hundreds of glasses!» the blond growls. «I didn’t know which one to take... can’t you be as normal as all the other people and have plastic ones?».

And Alec squeezes more to Magnus as he slowly laughs.

«Every glass has its own specific use, Barbie.» the Warlock grumbles. «You who are rude like a woodcutter can’t know, of course...».

«Hey!» Jace mutters and takes a seat on the other side of the bed and starts pouring water into a glass. «He calmed down a little...».

«You could even help him and put him to bed.» Magnus mutters, bitterly.

«I tried! When I arrived I tried to move him. With the only result of pecking a stabbing threat if I had done... he threatened to cut me off _my_... _well_ , not that you need to know.» Jace grumbles shrugging his shoulders and passing the glass. «He wanted to stay awake, he wanted to wait for you wake up... I suppose he has fallen asleep again».

And Alec just complains, he says something but the sound is clearly masked by his face all crushed against Magnus.

And the Warlock resumes to caress his hair slowly, after taking a plentiful sip of water. «Could you warn everyone that I’m awake? And please let them know I need a day alone with Alexander…».

Jace smiles and nods, like someone who knows better. «Already done, but if you want to be alone with him, I may make another call or two… Catarina said that she will come as soon as possible to give you a look. I think Izzy wants to celebrate with a dinner, I will tell Simon to ask his mother to cook something for everyone... otherwise we risk getting stuck after all the effort to keep Alec...» he begins to say.

And Magnus hears Alec’s heart again making a dull thud, as he raises his head in a hurry and teams his parabatai.

«What?» Magnus asks slowly.

«Nothing, nothing. Jace has an Institute to run so...» he murmurs. «It’s time for you to go back, is not it?».

Magnus tightens his lips and decides to postpone. They will talk, calmly, about everything, even if he has an half-idea in his mind and maybe that’s why he wants to let it go. He merely tightens his grip on Alexander and sighs softly. «You can go, Jace...».

And the Shadowhunter nods, but doesn’t hide the look of concern that flows on Alec before getting up. «Call me, for anything, okay?» and without waiting for an answer, he walks toward the door.

Magnus still sighs more deeply as Alec squeezes a little more to him. «Hey, I guess I have to go to the bathroom. I at least need to brush my teeth…» he murmurs softly, perhaps more to make him laugh than anything else. But Alec doesn’t even seem to listen to him, as he squeezes even more, as if to point out candidly to him that he won’t move so easily from there, let alone letting him go.

It takes another few minutes for the sound of Alec’s heart to settle completely in his ears, because that beat becomes slow, quiet, even. And maybe this calms down even the Warlock, who finally feels his shoulders relax.

And maybe for now, this must make him happy. This weird hug and this beating that drums slowly in his ears.

He is back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Perhaps Alec trembles. Perhaps he no longer has breath in his lungs, and perhaps his heart still must assimilate the blow. Even his brain has yet to analyse all the information.

For now it’s all right, it’s enough to have Magnus there. To hear him speaking to him and hugs him. Feeling his fingers slip through his hair is the most beautiful and unexpected feeling he can imagine. And he doesn’t even need kisses, all he need is to see him live finally.

At a certain point the construction collapses on him like a boulder.

Perhaps this is not enough for him. Perhaps he wants more. He absolutely wants more. He wants to undress him and touch him all, he wants to crush him and forget all that absence, he wants nothing but his warmth to heat him up tonight.

And suddenly his whole face blazers like August and he had decided to sunbathe during the hottest hours of the day on the roof of the Institute. And his heart makes a funny dive, which is a bit shameful.

And he hears Magnus giggle a bit, as if he had noticed his impudent thoughts. Of which perhaps Alec shouldn’t be ashamed then, since he just wants to hear him live, and feel alive too.

«I’d like to go to the bathroom, Alexander, really. And you should rest a little, you know?» Magnus murmurs slowly, the voice hoarse and husky seems to come out with difficulty from his throat.

And that sound climbs on Alec’s back like a warm and gentle shiver, like that sweet trembling that follows every kiss.

«Would you, please? One moment. Just a moment in the bathroom, maybe I should even take a shower...» he adds slowly, hesitantly, as if afraid of saying something wrong.

And after taking another moment to him, to ignore the idea that has flashed in his head for a moment, take a shower together, maybe it’s too much for his heart, and maybe it’s too early to return to normal, he decides to let him go.

He moves slightly, returning to sit on the ground and looks at him, perhaps with his best puppy-eyed expectantly expression. Because he doesn’t want to be the one who doesn’t know how to keep things in his pants, but substantially it’s just like that, and it has somewhat absurd how much he wants to feel Magnus hands on him. Although it’s early, and both of them aren’t in their best shape at the moment.

Magnus moves his legs, in a gesture that seems terribly tiring, to make them dangle from bed in a stretching that makes him look just like a cat, before resting the soles of the feet on the ground. And Alec stands up like a spring, again, and perhaps regrets this movement a little too lightning, because his head spins, but he must help Magnus reach the bathroom that certainly is something difficult at the moment.

«Hey, calm down, or else we’ll both end belly up... I just sent Jace away, it would be a mess...» he murmurs smiling as he holds out his hand to support him. «You’re exhausted, you should rest for a while. In the bed. With me.» he smiles then, standing up. « _Phew_ , God is so complicated to have mastery of himself...» he huffs.

And Alec tightens his lips. Maybe he wanted to make him smile, but he didn’t succeed much. Magnus was in bed for days, he gave him for dead, they gave him up for days, and this line maybe made him nauseous.

«Come here, let me look at you a bit…» he whispers then, picking up his cheek.

And Alec melts under that touch, as he bends his head to support the movement of Magnus’ fingers on his face. And perhaps he would like to reduce even more that irrelevant distance between them, squeeze him again against his chest and bring him back to bed. Then go on in those thoughts that continue to resonate in his head. He wants to feel alive, he wants to feel him live. He wants to feel his love on and under his skin.

Magnus smiles at him softly. «We can take a bath together, if you want. First give me some intimacy in the bathroom and then...» he murmurs. «Within the meaning, there are things that must remain secret in a relationship, for example what is done in the bathroom...».

And Alec giggles quietly, he can’t help it, as he approaches just a little more, just to better hug his hips. «You are terrible».

«Oh, you can finally talk to me!» Magnus replies, stroking the back of his head with his fingertips. «So we’ll have a bath together?».

«Have I ever refused?» he asks in a low voice, a little pleased.

And Magnus grins in response and begins to move slightly. «I don’t think so, but there’s always a first time... come on, let me go so that I can also prepare the tub, what do you think?».

«I can do it, leave it to...» he begins to say but Magnus silences him with two fingers on his lips.

«Let me take care of you now.» he says, and his words sound like the ancient whisper of time. His voice seems almost ethereal, celestial, seems to belong to the illusion of a memory, in the ancient shadow of a past life. Still, he is standing there, a light smile curving his lips. «I have to pamper you a little, mh?».

And Alec loses his breath all together. And gives up and observes Magnus who very slowly with studied steps moves towards the bathroom.

And maybe at the very least he had to accompany him to avoid getting upside down with his skull smashed on the bathroom floor, just to be sure. But maybe a minute alone can’t hurt him, and can’t hurt Magnus either.

And Alec doesn’t want to name the thing that bursts inside, now, at this moment that his breath is shortened again and his heart runs faster as he lets a sigh slip from his lips. And maybe he wants to cry a little more, alone, liberating tears of joy and then enjoy that bath together and all the rest, before having to face every single thing.

But perhaps, Alec still wants to ignore all of this, he wants to avoid the speech as long as he can. He was always quite good at avoiding certain speeches. As long as Magnus is back, right? This is enough, yes.

Better to find a way to keep his crazed hormones at bay as if he was fourteen, because his skin burns like when he first saw him, and his heart beats like when they first kissed. And it is only at this moment that he realizes that they have not even kissed yet, that they have not even exchanged an effusion that goes beyond caresses or  hugs.

And this thing doesn’t please him that much. Quite the contrary.

And maybe that’s why it’s even less lucid than expected, right now, and is prey to that swirl of hormones that burn in his face and blaze his ears. He decides to sit on the bed, with a long sigh. Possible that Magnus hasn’t yet kissed him or, worse, that he is not interested in kissing him?

Maybe he is still upset with him because he chose Jace. And maybe it’s because Jace was still there when he woke up. Or maybe he’s just making too many castles in the air.

«Hey, gorgeous?» Magnus calls softly, his voice hoarse.

And Alec turns to the bathroom and looks at him. And maybe his heart has always made this jolt when his eyes rested on him, even before all this. Or maybe he really is sex-deprived. Or maybe he just missed him. And surely he did miss him.

Or, maybe, he doesn’t even remember how it felt before all this. If even before, Magnus would take his breath away like that, and would make his heart skip a beat in his chest at every single look, at every single touch.

One thing, however, is certain, in that golden light that illuminates him from behind, he seems anything but the son of a Greater Demon.

«So?» Magnus mutters, and seems impatient.

And this rips him a frenzied smile, because even the Warlock clearly felt all that absence. And Alec decides to reduce the space that divides them as quickly as possible, even if he still has to anesthetize his jets.

But in the end with Magnus he could always be himself, so even this irreverence couldn’t be so unwelcomed. And he doesn’t even realize his enthusiasm when he closes the bathroom door and clings to him, and then leans a kiss that is perhaps too fast on his lips.

And when he pulls away from him, with a dreamy grumbling, Magnus chuckles. «Yes, this was worth the wait…».

And Alec can’t help but get closer to him. It’s like a battery-charger, Magnus, of those that recharge without wire, just contact. Here, this is it, and perhaps if he knew that this was the first thought that came to his mind to describe him, he would prod him to death, and impose a sex strike. But it’s what objectively he is: all the weariness has disappeared, it was enough to get him back. And it will be enough for a while.

_Then_ …

Then, they will have to talk.

Because it’s certainly not that easy to explain, it isn’t easy to find the right words to say that he mourned his death, that he’s faced this thing, this thing that he should never have to face, because he is certainly not eternal but Magnus is, and this is perhaps the only thing that makes everything more reassuring: it won’t happen again, also because if something like this does happen again, Alec wouldn’t bear it.

That’s what it means to love only once.

«Are you here with me, yes?» he whispers softly, under his breath, and perhaps he doesn’t even realize he has said those words.

And Magnus’ fingers tread his arm like the touch of a feather before collecting his cheek. His lips are tight, his gaze is so soft, so kind. «Here I am,» and it is nothing but a murmur, yet his voice is so clear and strong.

And Alec’s shoulders tremble, a warm shiver running down his spine and jumping from one vertebra to another. A realization, as if those words were enough to finally feel right. And again, he feels his eyes burn and tightens them to avoid letting something slip out.

And Magnus tugs him closer, and makes his face hide under his neck. «I’m here, and we have a lot of time to recover what we lost... we have a lot of time to be together. To work together. The two of us always find the way back to each other...» he whispers softly, as he lets a hand slip on his shoulders in a series of reassuring concentric circles. «I’m here, I’m here. I won’t ever leave you again».

And Alec would remain like this forever, but now he wants to kiss him, and try to forget at least for a while all that emptiness that he felt inside and on him. Because he must be happy, he must have it enough. He’s back and nothing else matters, right now.

Magnus sighs softly on his skin, and that breath, that warmth is just what he was thinking about, what he lacked back then. «So, get undressed, let yourself be pampered a little, mh?».

And his heart makes that funny leap back into his ribcage, and Magnus smiles more, touching his chest, as if he had guessed _the_ thought, the one that moves his soul, the one that makes his heart beat.

And Alec doesn’t move, trying to reduce a little that infinitesimal space that divides them.

But clearly, Magnus is quite different. He grabs the edge of his shirt and, without even wasting time unbuttoning it, pulls it off his head. «You ought to take better care of yourself, Alexander.» He hisses, faintly, letting his fingers run over his skin. He may have lost some weight, he may seem pale or whatever.

Alec tightens his lips, a sudden wave of anger and bitterness showers over him. « _You_ should be taking care of me more...» and perhaps his voice goes out too harsh, his comment too rough. And maybe he wants to take everything back, maybe he would like to say something else. And not feel that burning bitter rage drum in his chest. He just wants to be happy, he must be happy.

Magnus looks at him with wide, hurt eyes. As if all this had collapsed on him like a high-speed train. But then he sighs very softly. «You’re right, I’m sorry I don’t...» he begins to say, looking down.

And Alec opens his mouth to say something, but his words may have been corrupted by that rage, that poignant anger.

«Maybe we should .. we should... talk first, you know? » the Warlock adds, backing slightly, and the touch of his hands finally disappears from his skin.

And yes, Alec would like to take everything back. Because it’s an hallucinating pain that stings in his heart seeing him like this. «No I─» he begins to say and doesn’t really know where he wants to go with his words.

«I take a shower, alright? Can you... wait in the other room, please?» he babbles softly and returns the shirt he had dropped to the floor. And he doesn’t even look at him, he doesn’t look at him anymore.

And Alec’s short of breath. And his heart cries out in pain. And maybe his eyes burn.

«Alec, if you stay here... I could... I could not answer myself...» he sighs again and he seems so nervous now. «And surely we have to talk first... to get back to normal... because... _things_ have happened and I... I owe you an explanation, okay? I don’t even think we can go back to normal… _but_ ─» he adds without even moving his eyes, fixed on a tile of the floor, as if it were really very interesting.

He can’t do this.

He can’t do this.

He can’t deprive himself of Magnus, not now that he has him back, in his arms again. As long as they want, they will not be deprived of each other.

But his words, both their words, hurt so much that they may make his heart explode with pain.

 

 

* * *

  

 

There is a long moment of silence.

Deafening and empty like the one that enveloped him for so long.

Magnus has often been in this situation, very often to be honest. All his countless relationships have been in this point who before, who after. A deafening silence that hovers in the air, which follows a revelation, usually concerning a big mistake of his, and then again after the silence follow some steps, which move away from him. Usually it is forever, then again there is that silence after that. Definitive and absolute.

And his heart breaks.

All this time, all these relationships, all these trials and mistakes and he didn’t learn anything. He will also lose Alexander, not for his age, for his work, for lack of love or who knows what else, but for his great mistake.

A mistake which, among other things, he doesn’t even regret. Because it was the right thing to do. To save Alexander and his parabatai. To choose them over his life.

And to say that a moment ago it was all hot, that would have put his hands in Alec’s pants willingly and wouldn’t do anything but kiss him, kiss him and kiss him and take him to the bedroom and do everything he didn’t until now, feeling alive, feeling loved and making him feel alive and loved at the same time.

But now he waits. He waits, his eyes fixed on a tile on the floor of his bathroom, which perhaps has never been so interesting. Wait for that sigh, wait for those steps that will bring Alec in the other room and maybe his heart already light-years away from there, from him. He waits for that love to thin out, dry up and become a memory, distant and silence. He waits until he feel less pain.

And maybe it’s true, if Alec goes there, in the other room and waits for some clarification, maybe he can take a cold shower and quench the jets that climb up his spine, the pain that hovers in his heart. Maybe in the shower he can think, he can find the words and explain to him all that mess he has chosen, caused, and that Alec has found himself living in. And he can hope to hang up the pieces of what now seems a desperate situation.

But then he hears it, the beating of the Alexander’s heart that becomes more insistent in his ears, that seems to jump between his eardrums.

So, he looks up for a moment, afraid to what he may face. He looks up to look back to that young warrior, bare-chested in front of him. He looks destroyed, guilty. His eyes are shining with tears again and his lips tremble. And maybe Magnus has something to tell him, somewhere in the myriad of words he lost in his wuthering thoughts.

But Alec hurries to hold him fast, back to his chest. «No... no... please, do not let me go... I─ _I need_...» he whispers softly, the words kneaded by all the noise that makes his heart. «I didn’t want to tell you that, I didn’t want to tell you those things. I know we have to talk, I know we have to... clear up... but I need you now. _Please_ ».

_Please._

And maybe Magnus’ heart makes that leap again, that twin to what Alec’s heart does when Magnus returns the hug and tugs him closer, with a strength that he didn’t even know he had and it seems a distant memory too.

The young Shadowhunter seems to collapse in his arms, weighs more against him as if he had let himself go. «I know we have to talk. But I─ _I_ ’m not ready, Mags, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be... certainly today I just _want_ ─can I stay here?» and it’s all a confused murmur, his voice trembles again.

And Magnus sighs for a long time, and clings more to him, backing up to the first free wall available and then sliding to the ground and carrying the cumbersome Nephilim along with him. «We can stay like this all the time you want. You don’t even need talk about it, Alexander if that’s what you want but... I have to tell you a lot of things and...».

«Not today.» he hastens to say and crouches more against him. «And maybe not even tomorrow».

Magnus blows him a kiss in his hair and squeezes him just a bit more. «All right, we’ll talk about it when you’re ready... when _we_ ’re ready...» he whispers. «We can stay like this as long as you want, we can take a bath, after... or if you prefer, we can take a shower and... and then go back to bed that I know you have to sleep a little...».

And Alec sighs, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. «Bath is good».

«Bath, then.» he murmurs, trying to move to warm up the water, which must have cooled down now, but Alec doesn’t seem to think the same, he clings more to him and snorts loudly, as if annoyed, which makes him laugh. «Come on, if you leave me a second, I can reheat the water and...».

«Do it with magic, don’t move from here.» he replies crouching more against him. «Please».

And maybe Alec needs that contact as much as Magnus does. And he’s trying to enjoy that contact, that closeness, the heat that his body emanates, his skin. Before deciding that maybe it’s time to recall his magic, to heat up that water and undress and feel a little more on him. A little bit more.

Because maybe even Alec wants to feel him on his own skin with the same desire, with the same uncontrollable desire. And maybe they’re both too tired to do certain things. But he wants to feel alive, he wants to feel Alexander on him and wants to forget all of this for a moment.

Magnus remains silent for a moment, trying to feel his magic running through his veins, and then letting it reach his fingers to recall it. And it burns like fire, that magical energy, an unspeakable novelty under his skin, as if it was more powerful, different. Or maybe, he’s simply not quite able to hold it back.

He must use both hands to move it and let it flow on the water like smoke, to warm it. But it takes very little to understand that he can’t actually control it, all that energy. And it’s certainly not something he can afford, it’s impossible because his magic, this uncontrollable powerful energy, could hurt Alec, who’s so close, too close. And now he needs both hands to lock it up, hold it back.

The heat of his magic, so destructive, as dangerous as when he had used it first, the very first time, as a child, takes his breath away and burns his palms.

No, this isn’t his magic, it has never been so powerful, so unknown. Not to be misunderstood, his magic has always been extremely powerful, but never like that. It has never been so uncontrollable, not since he has learned to know it, to bind it for his purposes. It’s like something new, something that doesn’t belong to him. And perhaps it’s to be attributed to that thing, that thing he did to save Jace. Revive the bond with his father, evoke that primordial energy. Maybe it’s that. Of course, _surely_ it is that.

This is certainly what makes the floor tremble beneath them, what opens the doors of the bathroom cabinets, and all the creams, essential oils, the soaps that are on the shelves fall one after the other, with minimal damage since there are already a good dozen of towels on the ground. And he must move, as quickly as possible because he could burn Alexander not only his own hands. Alexander risks being a victim of his uncontrollable magic.

«Go out, hurry up. Get out of here!» he says and maybe he’s already screaming.

But they are words in the wind, Alec doesn’t move, doesn’t break up their hug, but is immediately there to pick up his wrist. And its energy becomes impalpable like an ignis fatuus and disappears altogether, all of a sudden.

Magnus’ whole body fail him and Alec pulls him closer again, he lets him sink into his arms and pushes his head against his neck. «It’s all right, don’t worry...» he whispers softly in his ear and it’s like a chant.

And Magnus observes the palms of his hands that show no sign, everything is rapidly disappearing from his skin as if there had never been anything. As if nothing had happened. But the signs of his impossible power are everywhere, on the floor of his bathroom.

Alec moves a bit, to get better room under him as he holds Magnus closer to his chest. «I suppose it’s because you’re still a little weak... it will get better soon...» he murmurs then, the voice that just echoes in Magnus’ ribcage, and makes him shiver. «You know what? We leave everything like that, we take a bath together _and_ ─» he sighs and shakes his head slightly. «We should... _we should_... go to bed, then...».

Magnus sighs and pretends not to notice that brief pause, that slightest sigh of his. He pretends not to hear the accelerated beats of Alec’s heart, and pretends not to understand, above all: because that isn’t fear, he knows him too well, that is excitement. And maybe it’s the same thing he feels, with a wisp of fear, though. And he pretends to ignore that he has a different ring on his left ring finger, a ring that has the letter L clearly visible in the center and the small flames that make up the symbol of Alexander’s family, and tries to ignore the meaning of that ring on his ring-finger. He also pretends to ignore that other dive to the heart, the one that once again takes his breath away.

Because Alexander wants it, he still wants him, even if he made him suffer.

And Magnus couldn’t be happier than that. Even if his joy is stained by that little incident with his magic a while ago.

«Are you okay?» Alec asks then, his tone extremely sweet, kind, that almost makes him forget everything else. And a light chill climbs up his back. «You made me worry... everything was shaking and... are you okay, right?».

«I should ask you... did I hurt you?» Magnus says back, looking up at him, and Alec looks at him with a raised eyebrow and a calm face.

«Don’t talk nonsense, Magnus! Of course I’m fine...» he replies faintly and tightens his grip on him a bit more, snorting softly when Magnus remains still.

And he wouldn’t know whether it is he or Alec that needs this continuous contact between them, between their bodies. Skin against skin.

Surely, Magnus needs to hear his voice, to hear those words muttering softly on his skin.

Alec bends slightly, moves his head to the side to give him a small kiss on the cheek and then a little further down on the neck. «Your magic, you... you can’t hurt me».

And he trembles slightly, under the light touch of those lips. No, he can’t keep his hands in place. And he should, he really should, because his hands are dangerous now. «Alexander...».

«I’m not that fragile, Magnus... I’m not delicate, I’m not something to protect... and you know... and then, you’ll never hurt me.» he murmurs slowly, his tone soft. «Everything is alright».

He tightens his lips. «I know, you kill demons for a living».

«Exactly.» he hums.

«And you’re a warrior...» he adds nodding, and tries to move «Come on, let me change the water... so we’ll have this nice hot bath... and we’ll go to bed, eh? So we rest a bit before your loud family storms in here, mh?».

He sighs and finally decides to let him go. And that pout that puts on seems rather displeased.

«You could use the heat rune, if you’re in such a rush...» he whispers softly as he bends over to feel the water, which is not particularly cold, but not hot either. «So we can do it sooner...».

«I have no idea where my stele is...» he huffs weakly. «I lost sight of it a few days ago and...».

«Then we’ll do it the Mundie way...» he replies, shrugging his shoulders.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Alec watches him. Watch Magnus bend over, in its outrageous height, on the bathtub, fumble with the knobs, mix various essential oils in the water.

He moves slowly with studied gestures, and Alec is sure he does it only to drive him crazy, to make him burst his head, not to be scurrilous, here.

And confirming his idea, Magnus occasionally grins, as if to make him understand that, yes, somehow he understands what he is thinking. That he seems to be simply horny, who can’t keep his hormones at bay or who can’t keep it in his pants, but simply wants to feel alive. He wants to feel him live on his skin. He wants to make sure that all that bad nightmare is over.

And if he want it so much, he might as well do it in the oldest way in the world and enjoy it. That pleasure that he deserves a little.

Magnus cuts him a look, a grim smile on his lips. A little mocking. A bit captivating. «You ought to take off what little you have on and get in the tub, Shadowhunter.» he adds, hastening to slip off the white jacket he wears and remaining with those linen trousers. That he’d wore for days. And since they’ve been together, maybe Alec has seen him wear the same look twice, at most.

And Alec prays to make them disappear altogether, never to see them again, those clothes, those white clothes. God.

«So?» he whispers as he approaches him. «Do I have to do it?» he wipers his lips with the tip of his tongue.

And Alec hurries to undo his belt and lower his trousers and all the rest.

And Magnus looks at him from head to toe, before undressing himself too and preceding him in the bathtub. And maybe Alec does the same, very slowly, to tell the truth, dwelling on that honey skin longer than necessary and then return to look in his eyes.

«Maybe it’s a bad idea...» he sighs, shaking his head.

Magnus grins. «Come on, get in the tub, let’s have a bath together...».

And Alec hurries to catch up with him, and maybe yes, maybe it’s a bad idea. But he must enjoy every moment. He has to bring out every good thing from this new, rediscovered peace.

The rest can wait.

When he is finally seated on the other side of the tub, and observes Magnus’ every single movement. And when he dips both his hands in the water and then wet his hair, this too, even this infinitesimal gesture makes his heart jump into his chest.

«As soon as we recharged for a while and rested a little... we do whatever you want, eh?» he then says, sinking back with his shoulders into the water.

And Alec wonders a little what sort of spell made them manage not to touch until now, in such a small space.

«Do you want to come here? You want to be pampered a little... if you want, I can make up a stupid excuse like “Come here my dear, I’ll wash your back”...» he winks again.

And Alec has the clear and glaring sensation of his jaw breaking apart, while he chuckles. «I couldn’t keep my hands in place, you know?» he replies, shrugging.

But while he talks, Magnus has his eyes fixed on his hand, on the ring that he stole and put on his finger. Who has not even had the courage to remove and now, right now, it burns madly on his ring-finger. And perhaps the Warlock didn’t even notice the exchange, of the Lightwood family ring on his left ring finger. And perhaps they must first clarify the other things, before talking about that wedding function without runes, without votes, without anything, without even a kiss to seal that promise, with no ear to listen to his words.

Magnus smiles then, and again gestures for him to approach. «It’s okay if you don’t keep your hands thight, I was referring to this when I said I could not answer for myself. Nothing too overwhelming, eh, we are both sufficiently exhausted...».

And Alec does not have to repeat it twice, to move closer to him.

Which in addition to the hot bath, needs the warmth of Magnus.

And this must be enough for now.

They’ll cross that bridge when they come to it.

And then, while he leans a bit closer, to kiss him senseless, slippery and deep, the demon sensor rings.

Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for following Militat and the Ex Machina series so far! It's been a while since I've actually written and posted this much...   
> I think this series will have to take a break (like a couple of weeks or so)... I'm currently working on a 3-chapter AU I want to share with you and on the major 15-chapter story that has been on hiatus since june... (Story from which cut scene and unchosen ideas I came up with Ex Machina series and Stardust 3-chapter story storylines...).  
> Talking about this chapter, and this whole Militat installment, I think I could have written something better, especially in this third chapter, which, as I said, was actually the hardest to write... And maybe you're thinking "damn it Malefix you promised us angst and there is such a small amount of that in this chapter!" And you may be right, I can't argue with that but, wait a bit and you'll see a full strenght angst storm in the next story. Something is left unsaid here, and something very ominous is yet to come.  
> So, stay tuned for more!  
> Please let me know if you find some horrible horrible mistakes in here, and let me know if you liked it by living a kudo or a comment that would be much appreciated!  
> Thank you again for all your support, see you soon!


End file.
